


Peace, Love & Harmony

by shutupeccles



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-23 01:38:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 63,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/616631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shutupeccles/pseuds/shutupeccles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hogwarts needs rebuilding and Neville's first task is to convince Draco to help. A wary friendship forms between the pair. Harry teases Neville that there's more to it than that but is still surprised when that turns out to be true. The war may be over but the struggle to be accepted as a couple has only begun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Peace

Neville approached the gates of Malfoy Manor, uncertain as to what forms of security surrounded the property. The Dark Mark filter would no longer be effective since the Death Eater brands disappeared with the last of Voldemort. Neville had seen Draco’s, seen his pride in it gradually become fear of it and then shame. _We were just boys._ The gap between sixteen and seventeen had never been so great. They would be eighteen soon. Neville already felt ancient.

A female house-elf apparated inside the ornate gates. She wore a starched and very pretty floral pillowcase. “On behalf of her mistress, Topsy must ask who is calling.” Topsy’s voice was high without being squeaky or irritating. Neville told her his name. “To whom do you wish to speak?”

“Master Draco.”

“Master Draco is not receiving visitors. Have you a message to convey?”

“It’s… um… never mind.”

“Very well, sir.” Topsy disapparated before Neville could think of something to say. He stared dumfounded for a moment then walked to the end of the lane before apparating back to the Burrow.

“Well?” Molly Weasley asked with an encouraging smile. Neville explained his failure to meet with Malfoy.

“Then you’ll have to go back tomorrow and pester the arrogant little snot,” Augusta Longbottom insisted. “Hogwarts isn’t going to rebuild itself.”

“Yes Gran, no Gran,” Neville replied grumpily. He didn’t see why Kingsley Shacklebolt stipulated Neville be the one to convince the Malfoys to help. Draco let Death Eaters into Hogwarts the night Dumbledore died. The Ministry should be able to force his family to restore the school to its former glory. Apparently that would weaken the magic woven into more than the physical reconstruction. Harry and Ron showed no sympathy, offering such wise advice as “Better you than me” and “I’d kill the fairy-blond twat.”

 

*~~~*

  
Neville must have seen every floral pillowcase Topsy owned before summer began. Each effort earned the same response, until Draco apparated to the gate instead of Topsy.

“Persistent devil aren’t you, Longbottom? Or perhaps you’re having an affair with Mother’s house-elf.”

Neville was surprised into silence.

“Still, Topsy’s probably a fair step up from what you’re used to. Lord knows what sickly nicknames the likes of Lavender Brown would call you.”

The mention of Lavender Brown stirred Neville’s vocal chords. “Greyback got her during the invasion of Hogwarts.”

Draco’s complexion could get no paler while he drew breath so darkened instead to the pink of suppressed consternation. “If you’ve come to list my family’s sins and weaknesses, you’re too late. That worm Riddle ran through them on a daily basis while he was here. Don’t look so shocked Longbottom. That’s his name isn’t it? Changing mine to Suck-my Dick Fat-boy won’t make the likes of you think any differently of me.”

Malfoy’s attitude irritated Neville. “Why do you hate me? Since we met…”

“I’m sorry,” Draco said mockingly as he crossed his arms, “how did this conversation become about you?”

Neville said what he’d been sent to say. “Hogwarts needs rebuilding…”

“Ministry’s frozen our assets, those they haven’t already confiscated,” Malfoy interjected.

“We need wandbearers, not money. If those from every House pitch in…”

Malfoy talked over him again, as he had for the past seven years. “Join your working bee so the Ministry can round us up and shove us in Azkaban?” His sneer spurred Neville on.

“Since we were eleven you’ve done nothing but sneer, bully, and look down your nose at people! But the one time anyone envied you was when your parents ran through the battle for Hogwarts, calling your name! Yours was the only family inside the grounds that didn’t fight, on either side –Don’t be ashamed,” Neville said hurriedly, risking who knew what by grasping the bars of the gate as Draco scowled. “They love you more than they feared Voldemort, other Death Eaters, or the Order of the Phoenix. That’s how they redeemed themselves. In Harry’s book anyway—and in mine.”

“We don’t need your pity Longbottom,” Draco snapped sulkily.

“Good because I’ve none to give you,” Neville declared flatly. “The war’s over,” he continued eagerly. “We survived. Rebuilding Hogwarts is symbolic of the world we want to shape from the aftermath. We need to do it together, to make it stronger than the one torn apart.”

Draco turned away. Neville reached between the bars to touch his arm. “Hiding from what you fear doesn’t make it go away.”

Draco shrugged off Neville’s touch. “No need to tell me.”

“What was it like?” Neville asked with slow anxiety. For a moment he thought Draco was going to answer, that hopes for peace weren’t futile.

“Have whoever’s in charge send Mother an owl with the details.” Draco apparated into the manor house and Topsy immediately appeared beside the gate.

“Mistress says ‘Thank you for bringing Master Draco out of the haunted house and into the sunlight.’ Also that my Mistress is deeply sorry; for what she did not say, only that Master Neville will know. Do you, sir?”

Neville nodded. Perhaps he did.

 

*~~~*

  
With Harry’s assistance, the Professors of Hogwarts had already located and filled in the Chamber of Secrets. Harry had been permitted to plant a new Whomping Willow in the same place as the one destroyed by Giants and fire. Luna commented on the appropriateness of the memorial he’d chosen to commemorate his parents, godfather, and Professor Lupin.

“And Professor Snape for that matter,” Harry agreed. “His history was caught in the branches of the original too.”

Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, and Slughorn divided and oversaw the assembled volunteers, taking particular care not to place relatives of war criminals with those of their victims – with two notable exceptions.

“Neville and Draco, I want you on my team with Harry, so over here. **Now** gentlemen,” Professor McGonagall demanded as she looked around like a falcon after prey. “And **where** are my Hufflepuffs from yesterday? Come along girls. Yes, yes the three boys are very famous, intimidating and handsome. You can discuss the lovely shape of their bottoms **after** we get some work done. This way.”

Gaggles of girls communicated in giggles behind their hands as they walked past the section of outer wall where the three young men worked.

“Blimey Harry, did you cop this nonsense all the time?” Neville asked in low tones.

“Not all the time,” Harry admitted. “People mostly pointed and muttered horrible things behind my back. Or to my face,” he added while watching Malfoy from the corner of one eye.

Draco worked silently and as far from the rest of McGonagall’s crew as he could get without being hauled back. The tension in his stance and occasional uncertainty of his wand arm showed that Draco was aware of every remark voiced in their vicinity, and was pretending he wasn’t actually here. Neville had spent most of life like that.

“Stare off Longbottom or people will think you’re hot for me,” Draco said without turning hand or eye from his allocated task.

Harry’s stifled laugh sounded very much like “No der.” His amusement died when Neville turned on him, possibly because the bricks Neville were shifting landed on Harry’s foot.

“You think I fancy Malfoy?” Neville asked in disbelief.

“No, course not Neville. I was only—don’t you?”

“I don’t hate him,” Neville admitted.

“I am still here you know.” Draco’s retort sounded like the Malfoy they were more familiar with. “If you’ve started match-making now you’ve got nothing heroic to do Potter, then I suggest you stop, because you’re crap at it.”

Neville started chuckling and found himself caught between Harry’s raised eyebrows declaring ‘Aha!’ and Draco’s lowered brows demanding he desist, so he decided to stop. “What he said, Harry.”

McGonagall strolled along the lines of reconstruction, inspecting her troops. “Well done Draco. Perhaps you can give Mr Potter some pointers.” She smiled before hurrying off to scold her idly gossiping Hufflepuffs. Draco muttered a tirade about not needing this pity party and deliberately put in less effort. Headmistress McGonagall was not impressed when she returned after lunch and pursed her lips at his shoddy spellwork. The same expression was aimed in Draco’s direction. He stared defiantly. McGonagall raised her wand sharply and undid it all. “Do it properly this time.” She strode away without further comment. Draco seemed pleased by this criticism rather than offended by it. Harry and Neville exchanged surprised glances.

“Can’t be Polyjuice,” Harry said loud enough for Draco to hear. “He’d have to be drinking it every few minutes to keep the transformation stable.”

Draco subtly flicked nonverbal hexes in their direction. Neville and Harry blocked it. “Nah, it’s definitely him,” Neville said with a grin.

Draco asked to be assigned to a different work crew during McGonagall’s final inspection for the day. “Stick me with Sprout if you don’t trust me with Slughorn.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that without losing Potter and Longbottom too.” The three wizards looked at her curiously. “Who else possesses the necessary combination of patience and balls to put up with you, Mr Malfoy?”

Harry and Neville smirked. Draco sneered.

“Besides which,” McGonagall added. “Narcissa insisted you be allocated to the same work crew as Neville.”

Draco, Harry and Neville expressed identical extremes of disbelief. Harry’s declaration of “Malfoy’d rather nibble Niffler nuts than co-operate with Neville!” won the prize for originality and the approval of his companions.

“I haven’t seen such consensus between Slytherin and Gryffindor since that partition to have Professor Lockhart reclassified as a Brainless Bundimin was bandied about! My decision stands, gentlemen. This is where I’ve put you and where you shall remain until this section is complete.” Her boot heels clicked on the cleared cobbles. The three wizards looked at each other in dismay.

“See you tomorrow then Draco,” Harry said blankly.

“Yeah,” Neville added.

Draco scowled wordlessly as he tucked his wand up a shirtsleeve and went in search of his mother, no doubt to complain. Neville caught himself watching the sway of Draco’s walk and nodding along with the Hufflepuff assessment of “nice arse for such an arse.” Either Harry didn’t notice Neville’s reaction or he did a thoroughly convincing job of pretending he didn’t. To play it safe, Neville asked how McGonagall knew about the Gilderoy-Bundimin petition Seamus started.

“Her signature was near the top, just above Fred and George,” Harry replied with admiration.

 

*~~~*

  
The void between Neville, Harry and Draco became smaller each day, mostly because Harry kept nudging and shoving Neville along.

“I’m not interested in him Harry,” Neville insisted during a drinks break on the hottest day. “Stop pushing me into his personal space.”

“Fine then, I’ll work closest to him.”

Harry earned a glare from Draco reminiscent of the good old days of openly loathing each other. They spent more time bickering and duelling than getting anything done.

“He must like you,” Harry told Neville on the way to lunch.

“He said more to you in that past two hours than he has to me all summer.”

“Yeah, but most of those were curse words.” Harry’s jeans were still smoking at the back from a hex Draco shot at his bum.

“Maybe I’m just hot for you Potter,” Malfoy quipped as he swaggered past. “Getting a nice look at my arse there, ladies?” he asked. The usual gaggle of girls behind Neville and Harry laughed.

“I thought he meant us,” Neville admitted quietly.

“You’re starting to like him.”

Neville squinted at the sunlight casting Malfoy’s form into silhouette. “I don’t want to,” he said as though finding Draco Malfoy alright was the most shameful thing ever.

“Blimey Neville, he’s not pure evil.” Harry explained events from Malfoy Manor and the Room of Requirement that Luna remained unaware of. “Twice he could have killed me or let someone else do it. Moaning Myrtle wants to marry him because he’s so gooey and sensitive deep within that icy façade.”

“Way deep.”

“Exceedingly deep.”

“Unfathomable.”

“Malfoy’s not that deep.” The two friends smiled at each other. “War’s over Neville. He’s not an opponent anymore. Ask him out.”

“No way. He’s not—he likes girls.” Neville gestured to where Draco hammed it up for some female admirers. Draco noticed. That bitingly arrogant expression had been pointed at Neville since they met.

“Malfoy’s just taking the piss,” said Harry. “He’s about as interested in those girls as you are. He either knows you’re looking or hopes you are.”

Neville charmed Harry’s sneakers to bite Harry’s toes.

Harry grinned triumphantly as he removed the charm. “You two are made for each other.”

Neville made Harry stay between them for the next session of the day, which managed to be less productive than the first. McGonagall’s boot-heels cracked cobbles as she strode to them before afternoon tea break.

“This nonsense has gone on long enough. Longbottom, swap stations with Potter so we won’t be wasting more time clearing away their mess! Honestly, how you three can continue to be so juvenile with all you’ve been through.” She lectured them through afternoon tea, ignoring Draco’s insistence that further twaddle could be avoided by transferring him to a different work crew. “Remember the time you entertained students in the quadrangle as a ferret Mr Malfoy?” McGonagall asked pointedly. Draco scowled silently. McGonagall turned her most imposing stare on each of them. “If I need to remind either of you three to behave yourselves one more time, I will transfigure the lot of you and tie you in a sack until you sort yourselves out.”

 

*~~~*

  
They worked sensibly for the next few days and were given internal repairs as a reward. Harry was paired with Daphne Greengrass, one of several Slytherins recently recruited by Narcissa Malfoy and Professor Slughorn. Neville worked with Malfoy in the room at the centre of the corridor so McGonagall walked past them twice as often as everyone else.

“Call this a reward?” Neville muttered as they surveyed the windowless interior.

“Potter’s not here so yes, I do.” Those seven words were the first thing Draco had said to Neville in days.

It was tempting to ask why Draco disliked Harry so much but Neville was pretty sure he already knew the answer. He’d had to keep an eye out for Malfoy the bully since day one of First Year and Harry had brushed off Draco’s offer of alliance, if not friendship, in a manner that could be described as daringly arrogant. No wizard families held grudges tighter or for longer than Blacks and Malfoys, and Draco was both.

They worked in silence at opposite ends of the room after discussing (arguing about) whether to begin with the walls or ceiling (“ _Walls first you nincompoop, or is your gran’s vulture hat going to prop up the ceiling while we work on that?_ ” — “ _I was thinking we’d use your ego_ ”)

Friendly chatter or laughter filled the rooms around them. Voices would stop as people hurried past their door. The noiseless void became thick and heavy, as though the room was steadily filling with dark smoke. McGonagall poked her head in to call them to lunch on the third day, the same unfortunate cast to her eyes and mouth as at every inspection.

“You go,” Draco said hollowly once she’d moved along the corridor.

Neville merely nodded in reply, not caring if Draco saw, and left him alone. He felt inexplicably sad and cold while sitting at the sunniest table, arms crossed over his chest to hold his shoulders and unable to eat.

“Where’s Mr Malfoy?” McGonagall asked sharply. Neville shrugged without looking up from the table. “Oh no.” McGonagall was already running, a sight unusual enough to attract mass attention. Neville’s instinct told him to follow.

“Professor, what’s wrong?” he asked as they ran.

“You left him alone you foolish boy!” McGonagall hadn’t taken that tone with Neville since he fought beside Harry at the Ministry.

“So?”

“So?” McGonagall kept running. “ ** _So-o_**? He’s only been on suicide watch since…”

Neville overtook her.

 

*~~~*

  
Draco was where Neville left him, privately correcting some errors in his spellwork.

“Worried I’ll shack up with Potter while you stuffed your face?” he asked as Neville hurried into the room.

Professor McGonagall arrived too late to hear Draco’s scathing comment. Hand over heart, she exhaled relief. “Oh thank goodness! Breathe a word of what I told you Longbottom and, no. You can be trusted. Pardon the interruption Mr Malfoy.”

Draco’s grey eyes sharpened and stabbed Neville in the face. “The tartan terror told you, didn’t she? Wretchedly overprotective mother…”

Neville grinned. Gran constantly urged Neville to seek danger while Narcissa went to extremes to keep Draco out of it.

“Something funny, Longbottom?” Draco asked caustically, wand hand preparing to attack.

“Knew you were too up yourself to deprive us of your majestic presence.” Neville calmly took out his wand and got back to work. His last year of Hogwarts had honed his reflexes as well as his instincts and Neville turned, wand raised like a sword to block Draco’s strike. He’d seen many expressions on Malfoy’s face over the past seven years, observed his features more carefully than he cared to admit, but this level of rage was entirely unfamiliar. “I’ve nothing against you Malfoy. Lower your wand.”

Draco didn’t and they began to duel in earnest.

“At least Potter’s open in his hostilities,” Draco sneered. “Your phony pacifist niceness shits me. You know why they put us together. If you want revenge you’ll have to fight for it.”

They consistently blocked and countered the series of nonverbal hexes, jinxes and curses flung at each other. Both were adept at silent spellcasting since sixth and seventh year students had been tortured for using verbal spells in Dark Arts. It kept their voices free to issue challenges and exchange insults.

“You think being bullied by you all through school is worth this? It’s a good thing Mrs Weasley did your aunty Bellatrix in before I got to her. So many ways I thought of killing her when she escaped from Azkaban. I’d have peeled that witch’s skin off and fed it to her!”

“I would have helped you, idiot. Sadistic bitch! Disgusting, getting off on Riddle’s power and cruelty.”

“So did you. Inquisitorial Squad ring a bell?” Neville dodged and charmed a spiral of fire from Draco’s wand so it fed the flames in the tall candles lining the corridor. He retaliated with a lightning ball that Draco flicked into a corner. The wallpaper birds took flight, colliding with walls and ceiling as the foliage of trees they perched in shrivelled. Neville and Draco glared at each other.

“They put you in here to kill me, buffoon, so get on with it. Two words.” He tossed his wand to Neville. “Use both together in case you miss.”

“I don’t want to be a murderer.” Neville threw Draco’s wand back as he said it.

Draco let the wand clatter to the floor. “Neither did I.”

Neville’s stance faltered. Draco smirked.

“Did you think we sat at the breakfast table and that thing said _”Pass the crumpets Draco and while you’re at it, kill Albus Dumbledore.” “Sure thing Tom. Would you like honey or jam on those? How about a cup of **TEA?** ”_”

Draco kicked the fallen wand up to his hand and the duel began again. Neville defended more and retaliated less as Draco vented through words and magic. The wallpaper birds stopped flitting about in panic and found their way out of the room.

“They flatter and bribe then threaten and torture. That demented cow was as bad as that thing she worshipped—no, worse. Manipulating and tormenting her own sister! As if having a heart is a weakness and every vile thing they did was normal, acceptable, admirable! McGonagall teamed us up so you’ll kill me. Potter’s too soft.”

“Your mother insisted…”

“Of course she did! You’re the son she wants! The Pureblood brave enough to stand against the Dark Lord!”

“I had nothing to lose! My parents don’t know who I am. Least of my friends, if they truly were my friends, which I often doubt. A mere shadow of my father, if Gran knew I was gay…” Poop. He hadn’t meant to let that one slip, any of it actually, but that fact in particular. He lowered his wand. Draco didn’t take advantage of his weakened defences.

“Father gives me that ‘last of our noble line’ lecture all the time, more tedious than Binns’ History of Magic lessons.”

“Recites every accomplishment of every notable ancestor to provide inspiration?” The sides of Neville’s mouth quirked. So did Draco’s. “So if there were no casual conversations about assassinating headmasters over crumpets, what was it like?” Neville asked.

Professor McGonagall arrived at the open door and was almost forced into the room by the press of witches and wizards behind her. “What is going on here? The birds…!” She swiftly regained her composure and turned to scowl at the crowd behind her. The mob took a synchronised step away from the door. “Why are wallpaper birds flapping hysterically about the place and insisting more murder is about to be committed at Hogwarts? Explain yours… Oh—my!”

Professor Flitwick made his way to the front of the crowd. “I take it the birds were mistaken Minerva?”

“Indeed they were Filius.” McGonagall’s voice was unfocussed as her eyes widened with wonder at the room’s interior. Draco and Neville were equally stunned as they followed her gaze. Each wall featured the same scene during a different season. Snow fell on a large and irregular bush in winter, multi-hued blossoms bloomed among its dark green foliage in spring, leaves the colour of over-cooked pastry drifted to the runner board in autumn and berries covered the bush in summer. Butterflies, birds, and a hare moved through the seasons, their behaviour and colouring changing to suit.

“A bunny, Longbottom? Really?”

Neville was too busy staring at the ceiling to respond to Draco’s derisive tone. Clouds moved from corners to centre where they merged to form images of battle and affection before returning like waves on a tide.

“You gentlemen should go into business,” Flitwick declared in solemn awe.

Onlookers in the corridor craned their necks, only to be shooed away by the two Professors. McGonagall turned to smile at Neville and Draco. “Finish the floor and have an early mark. Narcissa and Augusta will be proud indeed.”

“Where in hell did all this come from?” Draco murmured to Neville as the last stragglers were herded past.

“I don’t know. From our fight? A lot of magic was zinging about the room.”

“That doesn’t explain Mr Bunny and the Happy Joy Sunshine scenery.”

 _Maybe Harry’s right, and I do more than like you_. “Dumbledore always talked about the school as though Hogwarts is alive. Perhaps it’s telling us that endings aren’t always separate from beginnings. One thing flows into the next and while each season comes around again it’s never the same as it was last year.”

“You really are nice!” Draco’s declaration was not as mocking as Neville believed he intended. “Do you think it’ll finish the floor for us if we fight some more?”

“What’s left to fight about?”

“Who thought of the most gruesome way to kill Bellatrix?”

“I’ve already won that one.”

“I wanted to split her in half from head to ha-ha, feed one side to her precious Dark Lord and the other to his ghastly snake.”

“She’s your Aunt!”

“Think she cared? The things she taught me weren’t for anyone’s benefit, only to get up Snape’s beak for usurping her position as Old Tom’s favourite Death Eater and help regain her title as revered brown-nose. Bellatrix tortured my mother, her youngest sister, for **my** failure to kill Dumbledore. Belonging to that select group was made to seem a privilege. Earn the honourable title of Death Eater except there is no honour, only horror. The fight was supposed to be for our freedom. Throw off the yoke placed around our necks by ignorant Muggles and live in the open for benefit of all.”

“You believed that?”

“You believe everything your gran tells you. Mother said the nature of the fight began to change before some prophecy was made about a baby supposedly destined to thwart the Dark Lord, but that’s when Mother knew he was truly insane. He started hunting babies born around the same time we were, born to parents that defied him and so Mother continued to play along with her husband and big sister in case… After that Wormtail anomaly brought Tom Riddle back to life it was worse. The fight was no longer for liberty, but revenge. _Revenge on Albus Dumbledore! Revenge on Harry Potter! Revenge on a Mooncalf that stood on my toe fifty-seven years ago!_ ” Draco’s imitation of Voldemort’s voice as he blasted small holes in the floor set Neville’s fight or flight reflex to Snidget speed. The wallpaper hare frantically burrowed into the snow. The ceiling clouds formed a Dark Mark and thunder rumbled. “Faceless git,” Draco added bitterly. A single swipe of his wand made the floor smooth again. The ceiling clouds separated into abstract blobs.

“Carpet or wood?” Neville asked so they could finish the floor and get out of there.

Draco shrugged. “Carpet I suppose, continue the motif? Sod that, let’s do the whole floor the colour of dry grass and go home.”

Neville nodded. They began at opposite corners of the room and worked toward the door. “Your colour’s off,” they said after five backward paces. There was a clearly defined line between the two halves of the room. They pretended not to enjoy creating irregular swatches on the floor until their colours matched, then silently got on with it. They sidled through the door, backs against opposite jambs as they finished the last row. The room looked terrific. Draco looked up and Neville down as they smiled at each other with contented pride.

“See you tomorrow,” Neville said casually.

“Yeah.”

Then they hurried out the door and away in opposite directions.

 

*~~~*

  
“You’re becoming too friendly with that Malfoy boy,” Gran scolded Neville as he dished out pudding with a wave of his wand. The formal dining room had been incredibly busy since the battle of Hogwarts and Neville was pleased to have dinner alone with his grandmother in this smaller parlour, even if Gran was griping. “Minerva McGonagall might find it a dandy notion but I’ll soon talk her round and put a stop to this nonsense, before you’re tainted by any association with that horrible family. Now you’ve earned a decent name for yourself…I will not have my grandson linked to Death Eaters.”

 _Meaning you wouldn’t have cared before?_ Neville thought. He found it sadly amusing that he could face down Voldemort and subvert Death Eater rule at Hogwarts but couldn’t talk with such cheek to his gran. “War’s over Gran,” he said meekly. She gave that shrewd look that always made him feel like a simpleton, a lot like Draco used to. Best not mention that to her, although the similarity actually made him bolder. “Or at least it will be once people stop holding grudges against entire families for the mistakes of individuals. Hold each accountable for their own actions. Isn’t that what you were always saying?”

Gran’s expression showed that she disapproved of having her own words turned against her and yet admired Neville for doing it, so he continued standing his ground.

“I like Draco and I like working with him. These last weeks he hasn’t made me trip over my feet or pushed me into walls after doing that almost every day for the past seven years. Ask Professor McGonagall to separate us on the basis of other people’s prejudices and…” Neville fell silent and concentrated on his pudding. He’d almost said he’d continue seeing Draco regardless, but they weren’t seeing each other. They weren’t even friends. “War’s over Gran,” he repeated with emphasis, “but the clean up’s got a long way to go. Just let us get on with it, please.”

 

*~~~*

  
It took more than a week to finish the next small room because neither spoke, at all. Nothing decorative occurred, just dull restoration to its original state. McGonagall was not impressed and took each aside during a different break.

“What’s happened?” the professor asked Neville. He shrugged in reply. McGonagall sighed. “That’s precisely what Draco said.” She talked to them together once the room was done. “Substandard effort from you both. You cannot remain part of the select group chosen to restore the Great Hall if you only work to potential whilst re-enacting Dumbledore versus Grindelwald.” McGonagall turned from one to the other, like a bird, as Neville and Draco exchanged surprised glances then quickly ignored each other again. “Your next room is the second floor girls’ lavatory, home of Moaning Myrtle and former entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. Myrtle asked for Harry to return with Draco while we were filling in the chamber, so I'm afraid she won’t be too happy to see you Neville. I originally planned on allocating that room to Mr Potter and Miss Weasley to help cure half of Myrtle’s obsession. However, since Harry snorted “Sod off” through his nose and you two require motivation…”

“Blasted Potter,” Draco muttered spitefully as they made their way up the staircase.

“Harry told me Moaning Myrtle holds marital aspirations in regards to you, but I forgot to ask who she is.”

“Pervy ghost of the Mudblood killed by Slytherin’s basilisk.”

Neville smacked Draco across the thigh with his wand.

“She’s a complete pervert! Hiding under the bubbles in the prefect bath-tub, ask Potter. Whip me with your wand again and you’ll have to wave it by wiggling your hips.”

“Fine.” Neville hexed Draco’s nose-hair instead. “Use the word Mudblood again and hair will be growing out of holes lower down.” He undid the rapid-grow hex before Draco’s nose hairs reached his lip. Draco had raised his wand at the same time and they once again crossed like swords. Draco didn’t say anything once he understood Neville’s intentions, simply lowered his wand. There was no animosity in his expression. Neville deliberately looked at the floor and kept quiet for the remaining work period although he was often tempted to laugh aloud at Moaning Myrtle’s attempts to seduce Draco.

“He’ll run out of ways to tell her to bog off by the end of the day,” Neville gleefully boasted to Harry after sharing Draco’s most memorable comebacks. They laughed again. Neville chewed thoughtfully on his roast beef and lettuce roll before noticing Harry’s smugly amused smile from the corner of his eye. He could guess what caused it. “Shove off Harry.”

Harry’s smile broadened into a grin. “Your boyfriend’s watching you again. I think he’s jealous.” He waved across the room currently being used as a canteen. It was too wet to eat outside and the Great Hall was cordoned off while professors, the Ministry and members of the School Board researched the ceiling enchantment. Neville briefly resisted the urge to look in that direction. Draco’s scowling face turned down toward his food as their eyes met. “Mummy clearly approves of you,” Harry added into his pumpkin juice.

Neville’s startled gaze moved to the woman at Draco’s right and saw Narcissa’s subtle, unexpectedly shy smile. His chest expanded with seventy-five percent drawn in breath and twenty-five percent something else as he looked again at Draco, then back to Narcissa. He awkwardly returned her smile. Relief replaced Narcissa’s reticence and she turned to say something to Draco. Neville immediately stared at the plate balanced on his knees.

“This may be difficult to believe but you can trust him. He likes you,” Harry said the last three words as though he was learning to read. “Still hates **my** guts, but then I did steal his wand, make him lose his mother’s and on top of that, became master of the Elder Wand before he knew it was his. A series of events like that would probably tick Luna off. She believes you and Malfoy getting together to be more wonderful than finding a Crumpled-Horn Snorkack, highlight of her life apparently. Ron’d be taking the piss if he was here.”

“We’re not…we’re barely civil to each other. You’ve all got us paired off and we aren’t even friends yet.” Neville refused to look up as he kicked enamel dust from one shoe.

“Yet,” Harry said.

“What’d be the point anyway? I can’t exactly bring him along anywhere you lot hang out. No-one’d ever speak to me again especially not Ron, Seamus, Ginny or Dean. Hermione’d be checking me for the Imperius Curse or something the entire time. Plus he’s about as interested in Moaning Myrtle as he is in me.” Neville looked up. Draco looked down. Neville looked down again. “Can’t stand to look at me,” he lamented.

“Can’t stand to be **caught** looking at you, more like. So—you’ve thought about this then?”

“No and there’s no point thinking about it.” Or talking about it with Harry. “Seen Luna?”

Harry nodded. “About two yards to the left of your heart’s desire. Hardly surprising you didn’t notice her orange, purple and green overalls, or the singing bandanna covering her hair. Oh look, she’s sitting with him now. That should help you find her.”

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?”

“Watching Draco Malfoy pine after the boy he’s bullied for seven years? You bet!”

Neville transfigured Harry’s turkey and avocado bun into a tortoise. It slowly poked its head out and seemed to scold Harry with its eyes. Harry picked it up with a laugh and examined it from all angles. “Apart from a few sesame seeds on its shell, it’s indistinguishable from those I saw at the zoo on my cousin Dudley’s eleventh birthday. I accidentally locked him in a snake enclosure after accidentally setting the python free. Did I tell you about that?” Neville was too pre-occupied with this Malfoy business to listen. Harry noticed when Neville didn’t respond to a suggestion to show the turkey-roll tortoise to McGonagall and earn a belated Outstanding in her class. “Give me the heads up if you decide to go ahead with Draco. Then I can get Ron and Ginny used to the idea before they catch the pair of you snogging and cause a scene.”

Kissing—Neville never let his thoughts reach that point. He wished Harry hadn’t planted the idea so deep in his head. Thinking about it would no doubt lead to other thoughts that made Neville blush. He decided to get back to the girls’ lavatory early in order to be composed and in control of certain mental imagery before Draco arrived.

“You’re keen,” Draco remarked. “Hoping to steal Myrtle off me?”

“Not my type,” Neville replied when he’d meant to say he couldn’t possibly come between them, or something of the sort. “Know anything about S-bends?”

“Only that I don’t want to spend my honeymoon in one.”

“I heard that,” Myrtle said snappily from her toilet and flushed herself away in a sulk. Neville and Draco smiled broadly at each other and then quickly looked away.

“Walls are done. Floor, ceiling, mirrors and cubicles up to us but leave the actual plumbing and loos for someone else?” Neville suggested.

“Sounds good.”

By unspoken agreement they always began at opposite ends of a room and travelled in the same direction to maintain the maximum physical distance until it was no longer possible. Their silence wasn’t as dreadful or menacing as it used to be. Toward the end of the next day Draco flushed all the lavatories and ran every tap that wasn’t broken to ensure Myrtle wasn’t eavesdropping. He tucked his wand up his sleeve and perched his bum against the edge of a hand basin.

“Did you kill anyone?” he asked sombrely.

“I tried not to.” Neville expected to be berated for this ambiguous response. Draco said nothing. “Did you?”

“You ask as if you haven’t already assumed I did.”

“I try not to assume anything.”

“Everyone else assumes I did.”

Neville sat on the closed lavatory opposite Draco’s basin and put his wand on the floor between his feet. “Did you?”

“I tried not to.” Draco’s voice held none of the anger or arrogance Neville had come to believe was his natural tone of speaking. “But then other people were either made to do it or suffered for my cowardice.”

“Sparing a life isn’t cowardice. Mercy isn’t a weakness.” Unless you’re a Death Eater, Neville supposed. But he wasn’t going to say that. He wasn’t Ron.

“I didn’t stop any of **them** though, did I?”

Neville had no idea how to respond. After a moment of staring at the floor between Draco’s expensive sneakers, he noticed Draco’s weight shift on to them. Neville’s head snapped up. “Where are you going?” he asked.

“Home.”

“Why?” Neville slowly stood.

“I don’t belong here and you know it. Whoever sent you to our house—whatever their plan was failed.”

They weren’t a couple but Neville wondered if this hollow, aching helplessness was what breaking up felt like. He wanted to plead, find some way of talking Draco into staying. But then Draco would know, throw it back in Neville’s face and make him feel worthless like he’d always done, so easily.

“Fine. Naff off then and hide in a corner until everything goes away, except it doesn’t work Malfoy! Just when you think life can’t possibly get worse, some arsehole like you comes along…”

Draco’s features became a stone façade. Neville fought to take back years of juvenile conflict and erase them. It was too late. Draco slammed the remaining chunk of door on his way out. It broke away from its single hinge and fell to the floor. Neville continued to work alone. His spellwork hadn’t been this awful for ages and he soon gave up. Gossip had it that witches and wizards of all ages would sneak into the Room of All Seasons when the task ahead seemed impossible, including Kingsley Shacklebolt the current Minister of Magic. After a moment’s reflection they felt able to continue. Neville concluded that even if the rumours were bollocks, the worst that could happen is he’d be reminded of how well he and Draco had been getting along. Of how close they stood in that doorway and shared a look of mutual pride…

Draco was already there. His white-blond hair was turned away from the door, head resting on his knees as he sat on the floor with his tailor-dressed back against the winter wall, hands locked on wrists at his ankles, shoulders trembling and then still, then trembling again in a pattern of emotional agony Neville knew only too well. He closed and locked the door without a sound then knelt before Draco. He hesitated before touching the back of one hand—the veins were clearly visible because Draco gripped his wrists so tightly. Draco rapidly moved both hands behind his bum, trying to disguise his startled sniff. Neville carefully put a hand on each of Draco’s knees.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s hardly your fault I’m an arsehole. Shame of his generation,” Draco scornfully quoted an old Daily Prophet headline.

“We found it horrifying enough to live at Hogwarts with a handful of Death Eaters. We never considered how it would be to return home for the holidays and be surrounded by them, with no common room or Professor McGonagall to provide refuge. Who can say I wouldn’t have made the same choices in those circumstances? Or worse ones?”

“The Killing Stick was mine and I didn’t know it. I could have killed them all before they left the castle. Become the next **him**.” Draco’s bitterness, rage and self-loathing somehow infected the enchanted walls and ceiling. The winter scene became sharper and more detailed as others paled and blurred. His features were sharp as he finally turned to face Neville. “It would have been worth it to be rid of them, not having a soul. I didn’t tell my aunt they’d found your beloved Potter because if he was the Chosen One he’d free my family of cursed Riddle. I didn’t care about Potter, Weasley, or that Mudblood Granger—or you. I still don’t. I don’t give a Knarl’s arse what you lot think of me either.”

Neville didn’t believe that. “You’re more like us than him. Dumbledore made the mistake of trusting Grindelwald…”

“Becoming friends would be a mistake…”

“We can be more than friends.” Neville wanted the ceiling to become a funnel and suck him up into the whirling clouds.

“They were more than friends. Surely your gran read Reeter Skeeter’s book about Dumbledore. I’m surprised she didn’t warn you to keep away from that evil Malfoy boy.”

“I don’t take orders from Gran.”

“Since when?”

“Since she told me to keep away from that evil Malfoy boy,” Neville admitted with a hint of smile. “I’ll avoid you because you’re a prick, not because someone tells me to.”

Draco snort-laughed abruptly and Neville laughed at the sound. “Even Weasley?” Draco asked with characteristic mischief.

Neville smiled dorkily as he nodded. Draco kissed him, a short, dry touching of lips before leaning his head back against the wall. He looked like he regretted it. Neville’s arms and knees shook as he placed his hands on the floor, either side of Draco, and leaned in to risk kissing him in return. He tried to make it soft yet straightforward. Let there be no mistaking his intention. Their mouths met and began to move slowly, similar to eating soft ice-cream from a cone at one-quarter speed. It was a tentative but serious kiss that sent every nerve in Neville’s body haywire. Draco’s knees opened as his feet slid forward along the floor. Neville crawled closer and their kiss continued. Their hands collided as they reached for each other’s back, shoulder, neck, or face. Neville hoped Draco found the experience as incredible as he did, while expecting Draco to pull away at any moment to tell him he’s a gullible idiot and a crap kisser with it. It seemed to go on forever at the same pressure and pace.

The sound of quietly groaning stone was followed by an organic sound familiar to Herbology Greenhouses and the Forbidden Forest. Neville didn’t want to stop kissing Draco to look for the source. They were bound to fight again once the kissing stopped and Neville was sick of fighting. He wanted to enjoy and remember the warmth of his first proper kiss, this embrace, for as long as possible.

Increased noise in the corridor suggested the work day was over. The illusion that they were alone ended and they moved slowly apart, limbs stiff from holding the same position for so long. Draco kept the moment pure by kissing Neville quickly again, more seriously than the first time. Neville returned it, with the third and final being entirely mutual. A sharp wooden retort followed each brief meeting of lips. They cautiously moved their heads to look. The spring scenery was brightest now with summer almost as clear and a large elliptical table had grown in the centre of the room from the roots of the wall-trees. Three chairs had dropped from nowhere, like fruit. One landed on its side. Neville saw his awe reflected in Draco’s expression.

“Guess we better not shag in here,” Draco quipped huskily.

“Does this mean we’re on?” Neville asked carefully. “I mean, if Hogwarts approves…” His left hand travelled down Draco’s right arm until his fingers traced the back of Draco’s hand.

Draco’s left fingers stroked the back of Neville’s neck and his eyes held Neville’s. “Definitely on,” he told Neville. They kissed again and a fourth chair landed with a clap. “How many chairs do you think they’ll need?”

Neville grinned and helped his boyfriend to his feet. Draco kept hold of Neville’s hand as they inspected the wooden furniture. Professors Flitwick, McGonagall and Slughorn opened the door to clear the room as they did every evening.

“Here they are Narcissa. Nothing to worry about,” Flitwick said with a cautious smile in the direction of Neville and Draco’s joined hands as Narcissa found her way past Slughorn. Their fingers twitched doubtfully but then held fast. No-one commented on it.

McGonagall strode directly to the new furniture then inspected the walls and ceiling again. “Forget the lavatories. You will both report to the Great Hall before 7am tomorrow. Leave Augusta at home, Neville. We mustn’t upset established equilibriums.” Her hand caressed the table and the back of the nearest chair. “Gentlemen,” she nodded before leaving.

Flitwick smiled encouragingly and Slughorn declared “Spontaneous too. Not since Lily Evans…” before they followed Professor McGonagall.

“Come along Draco.” Nothing in Narcissa’s tone or expression revealed her thoughts.

“See you stupidly early tomorrow then,” Draco said with a tight smile and they reluctantly released each other’s hand.

“Yeah,” Neville replied docilely and wondered if they were already off.

 

*~~~*

  
Neville thought it best not to mention his afternoon of kissing Draco Malfoy to Gran. Or anyone else just yet, not until he knew they were definitely, definitely on. Doubt didn’t stop him going over every detail in moments of silence. During the night he imagined Draco telling Narcissa and Lucius that there’d been nothing, Neville was a stupid, fat, ugly, and useless nothing who had a moment of glory and was trying to cling to it by coming on to an infamous bad boy. ‘Saint something-highly-insulting’ he’d call him in that same snide way he referred to Harry as ‘Saint Potter’. Neville berated himself for being so pathetic and gullible.

Then he remembered Draco’s expressive mood swings, the way ‘their’ room responded to their arguments and making up, Draco’s fingers staying linked with his in Narcissa’s presence. His wry comment about shagging—it was all real.

For one glorious afternoon, Draco Malfoy had been his boyfriend.

 

*~~~*

  
Lucius Malfoy was not one of the school governors selected to assist Kingsley Shacklebolt and the Hogwarts Professors with the Great Hall restoration. Draco and Neville arrived earlier than most of the officials.

“I was worried, that…” Neville began to admit as they casually gravitated to an isolated corner and sat beside each other.

Draco moved his knee to bump Neville’s. “ **You** were worried? I nearly didn’t show to avoid an ‘all a mistake’ spiel. If it wasn’t for comments people kept making about our, that room, or the way we—I wouldn’t believe it,” he added softly.

Neville timidly put a hand behind Draco and moved it forward to touch his back. They shared small, goofy smiles, amused at how nervous they both were. Then their lips met. They were just finding their momentum when Professor McGonagall interrupted.

“Time for that later gentlemen,” she said softly and walked past, revealing Ginny, Luna and Hermione standing across the room. Luna waved cheerily. Ginny was pounding Hermione’s back because she appeared to be choking on her drink. “Everyone to this end of the Hall, please,” Professor McGonagall called.

“ ** _Kissing!_** ” Hermione hissed as they followed McGonagall. Ginny nodded sympathetically. Draco glared at them as he and Neville stood. Harry obviously hadn’t discussed his Draco-Neville theory with their friends. Maybe he’d been taking the piss all along.

Luna skipped along beside them. “So nice to see you finally have a boyfriend Neville and such a handsome one at that.” She smiled brightly at them both. “It kind of makes up for the tragedy, doesn’t it?”

Ginny implied Luna was insane without coming right out and saying it. “If anything it proves Neville sustained more spell damage than we suspected rather than balancing out the tragedy of this past year.”

“Not those tragedies, silly—the thwarted romance between Frank Longbottom and Narcissa Black.”

Even Neville joined the unanimous stare normally reserved for mentions of Wrackspurts. Luna told her story with gusto. “It’s all in _Romantically Tragic: True Tales of Disastrous Love_ by Madame Melancholia Malfoy. The names had to be changed of course, but _Black Diamond and the Inferior Pure-blood_ is obviously about them.”

“I’ve read that book, repeatedly,” Ginny admitted. “There’s no such story as _Black Diamond and the Inferior Pure-blood_.”

“You must have read a copy printed after Narcissa married Lucius. Madame Melancholia wouldn’t want her nephew associated with a tragic romantic.”

“Can I borrow yours to compare?” Ginny asked. Hermione looked horrified, as though Ginny had been a gushy stereotypical girl in disguise all along. “What? Most of the stories are really gruesome. Mum wouldn’t let me read _Violent Evisceration of Violet Evanesca_ until I was of age.”

“What kind of romance could possibly feature in something with ‘Violent Evisceration’ in the title?” Hermione asked. The two friends argued over gory wizarding versus mushy Muggle romance novels.

“I thought Busltrode, Greengrass and Parkinson talked rubbish,” Draco mumbled to Neville.

“Avoid Ron and Harry then,” Neville mumbled back.

“Made a habit of it,” Draco quipped. Hermione and Ginny began whispering about the quick smile the wizards shared. Neville wanted to finish early so they could get away from the witches and spend the afternoon together.

He was out of luck. The day involved repeatedly practicing the convoluted enchantment to make the ceiling an exact copy of the sky above the castle. They missed morning tea completely. Everyone but Professor Flitwick was surprised when Luna mastered the spell before Hermione. Kingsley called a long lunch once all members of the Great Hall Task Force were equally proficient, then they would begin the gruelling task of enchanting the ceiling.

The other work groups were leaving the canteen as the Great Hall Task Force entered. Ron made rude sounds with accompanying gestures at Draco. “Pity you mate,” he called to Neville, “stuck with that two-faced ferret day-in, day-out. Let me know if you need a hand topping yourself Malfoy.”

“Classy friend you’ve got there, Neville.”

“In comparison to Crabbe, the murderous imbecile?” Neville retorted.

“Try to air all grievances against each other before we return to work,” Professor McGonagall suggested wryly. “We don’t want the ceiling covered with floating bunnies of reconciliation, do we?”

“Do they think we did that on pur-” Neville was talking to himself because Draco had sat down three paces ago, “-pose?” He turned to join him and bumped into Hermione who encouraged him to keep heading in his original direction by deliberately remaining in his way.

“Why on earth were you kissing Malfoy?” Hermione asked when they reached what she deemed to be a suitable distance from Neville’s definitely-yet-maybe-not boyfriend.

“Imperius Curse,” Ginny replied, “has to be. No-one in their right mind would willingly kiss Draco Malfoy.”

“I would,” said Luna. Hermione and Ginny’s glance said ‘point proven’. “I think it’s nice that he can see how wonderful Neville is after being blind for so long. It shows he can’t be all bad.” Luna astonished her friends by sitting with Draco instead of them. Draco surprised them more by not moving away or sneering at her, although his eyes widened slightly as Luna began talking to him.

“A chunk of ceiling hit me on the head and I’m hallucinating Draco Malfoy engaging in civil conversation with Luna Lovegood,” Ginny declared.

“I happen to find him interesting. We have enough obstacles to trip over without you two throwing things at us.” Neville risked a humiliating double rejection by walking over to Luna and Draco. As if willingly working alongside a Malfoy hadn’t been enough to alienate Ron, Neville had to insult his sister and girlfriend too? Draco barely hesitated before clearing a spot for Neville to sit beside him. Luna stayed and nattered on about things that could be taken as metaphors for what lay ahead, or seen as sheer nonsense. Most of the time Draco looked enticingly confused but he avoided showing contempt at anything she said.

“You must really like Neville to bother pretending you care what I’m saying to you Draco. Most people’s eyes glaze over and then they walk away.”

Draco seemed mesmerised. “Are you always so…?”

“Strange?” Luna asked.

“Blunt,” Draco corrected.

“I may appear dull but my mind’s actually quite sharp. Otherwise I wouldn’t be in Ravenclaw. Oh look, there’s Harry’s other house-elf. Hello!” Luna waved to Kreacher and then went to talk to Kingsley Shacklebolt.

“Boring certainly isn’t a word I’d use to describe her,” Draco said to Neville. “And she clearly has good eyesight, although many of her opinions are on the unusual side.”

“Is that Slytherin-speak for _I like your friend_?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You’ll be expecting an introduction to Blaise next.”

“We’ve met,” Neville said flatly.

“That wouldn’t be a polite way of saying _’Your friends are all smarmy gits and I’d prefer it if you keep them the bog away from me?’_ would it?”

“You should have been in Ravenclaw.” Neville was pleased with Draco’s amused grin—and rather turned on by it.

“Have you always been this entertaining Longbottom? Or only since you stepped out of Potter’s shadow?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I like you, you pillock, and regret how much time I wasted **not** liking you.”

Neville kissed him. “That means ‘ditto’.”

There was no time for deeper reflection or snogging as the Task Force was herded back into the Great Hall and the meticulous enchantment began.

 

*~~~*

  
Learning the necessary enchantments yesterday had been exhausting enough. Constantly reapplying them like layers of moss and bark on a Skittering Fern bed required intense concentration. They hadn’t had the energy for a kiss goodbye. Or even a cuddle and Neville hoped to fit their first proper cuddle into yesterday. A chance for either would have been a grand thing. The parchment version Draco sent by startlingly white peacock overnight was tucked into the coin pocket of Neville’s jeans:

_This will probably set a precedent for Lavender Brown level soppiness on your part but that’s a risk I’m willing to take. Today was brilliant. Aside from those hours of repetitive spell-casting, which were incredibly dull. I look forward to your company again tomorrow. Lovegood is also sure to break the monotony. Now for the soppy bit – O X  
(Notice the gap, so you don’t assume I’m calling you an ox and get stupidly offended)_

Neville thought it was terrific and sent a reply with Gran’s owl. A message written on crisply folded linen-blend paper arrived soon after.

_While this correspondence between you is sweetly humorous, could you please be more discreet? Your delighted recipient has also been warned, as he will no doubt tell you tomorrow._   
_Sincerely_   
_Miss C.B._

The signature was one reason Neville got to Hogwarts earlier than necessary, hoping to talk to Draco in private. Only the Great Hall Task Force began so early. Unfortunately Ginny and Hermione arrived early too, hoping to catch Neville alone and discuss their reactions to his boyfriend. First they admitted to believing Neville and Luna had been an item for the past two years. Seeing Draco kissing a wizard at all had been equally surprising. Discovering that the wizard was Neville added an extra coating of shock. Then he had to endure variations of “He’s not the one for you” and “What do you see in him, anyway?” that echoed through his mind in Gran’s voice. What did Neville see? He couldn’t be sure. The doubts Ginny and Hermione created evaporated when he saw Draco apparate closer to the school gate and subtly look around until he found Neville. They both relaxed. Whatever the attraction, it was mutual. Neville didn’t bother controlling his smile. Draco’s grin was fleeting but bright. Then he spotted Hermione and Ginny. Hermione frowned with Molly Weasley intensity. Ginny ventured a tentative wave. Draco cocked his head curiously and lifted his fingers in an almost wave.

“That settles it,” Ginny declared. “Malfoy loves you. Should have known you’d snare the sexiest naughty boy of all,” she added with a grin.

“Ginny!” Hermione exclaimed. Neville thought Hermione would make a perfect mother to broods of Weasley children.

“What? I’m related to five of the naughtiest boys to ever attend Hogwarts, plus Percy. Trust me Hermione. The badder the boy, the nicer his,” she glanced at Neville, “love interest. It works in reverse too of course. That’s how I nabbed Show-some-remorse-Voldemort-and-be-forgiven Potter. Big boobs helped.”

Neville and Draco laughed. Headmistress McGonagall opened the gates and Ginny bounded off to use the lavatory. There was no time for flirting or arguing once work began although Neville managed to sneak in the occasional ogle of Draco’s bum. Draco caught him at it and angled forward with a cheeky smirk to give him a better look.

“Eye’s up gentlemen or we’ll need to go over this section again,” Shacklebolt subtly reprimanded them then laughed heartily at their ‘oops’ reactions. Luna smiled and Ginny winked. Hermione shook her head and muttered about hormones having no place in the application of magic. Flitwick and Slughorn begged to differ and the Task Force broke early for a hasty lunch rather than pushing on and becoming more distracted.

Draco and Neville stole quick kisses on the way to and from the loo because that’s all they had time for. The second session progressed more efficiently. Owls were sent home to advise families that Task Force members would be working through the evening, into the night and then beginning again before dawn to ensure the ceiling depicted night and cusp skies as accurately as day.

Afternoon tea was taken in the hall. Professor McGonagall used this time to talk their ears off. “Well done, particularly our student representatives. Your dedication and unique contributions have set us twelve hours ahead of schedule, at least. The Hogwarts house-elves are preparing a feast and several energy-laden treats to get us through the night. Non-staff will find clean clothes and pyjamas in the Prefect bathrooms. If the dormitories were ready we would all be sleeping there. Alas, Seamus Finnigan’s Transfiguration skills have not improved as markedly as his Defence Against the Dark Arts. Potter and Weasley spent part of the day re-attaching his fringe, brows and eyelashes, then the larger part learning how to do it properly from Madam Pomfrey, so their teams left early.” She paused until the universal chuckles faded. “Please adhere to the bathing roster.” Copies appeared at each exit as Professor Flitwick waved his wand. Professor McGonagall gave no hint that her comment was aimed directly at the young wizard couple, yet Draco clearly heard it that way. His hand shot into the air faster than Hermione’s during a pop-quiz.

“But Professor, I need someone to help scrub my back.”

“Professor Slughorn could provide any necessary assistance, or perhaps, Moaning Myrtle?” McGonagall replied. Even Slughorn chortled.

“I’ll stay filthy, if you don’t mind.” Draco’s subtly amused expression contradicted his acidic vocal tone.

“I’d prefer it,” Neville murmured and Hermione whacked him across the knee with the back of her teaspoon. Draco winked. Neville grinned.

“Fine, marry him, see if I care,” Hermione muttered then soothed her irritation with a gingernut biscuit.

 

*~~~*

  
Finally, sleeping bags were conjured and the clean but exhausted Task Force prepared to camp out on the floor. Hermione and Luna conjured a higher camp bed for the older members to sleep upon. Draco and Neville had subtly been assigned sleeping bags at opposite sides of the room so they slunk out to sit on the repaired staircase and talk. Despite Neville’s morning intentions they didn’t do much talking. It was nice enough to simply sit alone and touch fingers now and then.

“When this reconstruction project is over…” Draco began anxiously.

“We won’t be,” Neville assured him. Draco nodded. They turned and leaned in to kiss but were interrupted by Professor Slughorn, who’d left the Great Hall in need of a toilet.

“Hurrumph. Yes, well, none of that. You may be qualified wizards now and no longer students but this is still a school. Hanky-panky is not allowed.” Slughorn grumbled about the distance between necessary facilities, and that the enforcement of no apparition within school grounds whilst the school remained under construction was sheer nonsense.

“Who’s got energy for hanky-panky?” Draco complained as Slughorn shuffled away. “ _Hogwarts—a History_ is bunk. Slytherin, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff couldn’t have built Hogwarts like this with only the four of them, regardless of how great they were. They must have used house-elves.”

“You’ve read _Hogwarts—a History_?” Neville asked. Hermione was the only person he knew who’d even heard of it.

“No. But I’ve heard Granger prattling about it often enough to Plotter and Weasleby to probably know it by heart.”

Neville chuckled as he kissed Draco’s neck. Draco turned his face and they kissed deeply, the way they had that first afternoon in their magical room. Their bottoms scooted closer on the stair. Their knees collided painfully but they didn’t pause. Draco splayed a hand over Neville’s neck, sliding down until his fingers hooked into the collar of Neville’s shirt, tugging slightly. Neville’s hand moved up Draco’s back to grasp his hair and their kissing became forceful, heated, sloppy, noisy, and sexually arousing. Slughorn ‘Hurrumph’ed again and stomped loudly on each stair as he returned to the Great Hall.

“When construction’s over,” Neville began breathlessly.

“Shag, definitely.” Draco started kissing him again. Slughorn held the double doors to the Great Hall open and hurrumphed louder and more sternly than before. Neville and his equally horny boyfriend took the hint.

 

*~~~*

 

_Draco wants to shag me_   
_Or be shagged by me_   
_Me and Draco_   
_Holy…_

Neville had to be excused from the Great Hall more than once that morning because he couldn’t concentrate. As a result, progress was stilted and the transformation took longer than predicted when the day began.

“Wands away,” Professor McGonagall said with quiet solemnity once the final charms were cast. “Miss Lovegood, please ask the Lady to join us.”

“Alright Professor,” Luna replied brightly.

Draco and Neville drifted together in the deepening silence until Professor McGonagall flicked her wand against their thighs. “Not yet,” she admonished gently. “Hogwarts has an interest in the two of you. Now is not the time to provide distractions.”

Luna returned with the ghost of Ravenclaw tower. Their gentle conversation came to an end as the Grey Lady paused in the doorway. Luna sat with Ginny and held a finger against her lips. Helena Ravenclaw’s spirit travelled clockwise around the room as though walking on earthly feet. She began to speak while walking counter-clockwise around the Task Force, herding them to the centre of the room.

“Ambition, Courage, Humour, Intelligence, Love have built this hall. Let them dwell in it always for these virtues form the heart of magic. Magic is to be wielded for the benefit of all, particularly the weak. Remember this always for then Muggle and Magical worlds will be one, as once they were, as forever they should have been. Fear and loathing destroyed this hall, forbid them entry for peace cannot be found in their presence. Hogwarts had to fall for the school was originally built on lies.” Helena Ravenclaw stood and appeared to be listening. Luna tilted her head and smiled beatifically, nodding in agreement with the Grey Lady although they were looking in different directions. Hermione and Neville exchanged wary glances. He turned to Draco and was surprised to see a rapt expression similar to Luna’s but without the nodding smile.

“Don’t you hear?” Draco whispered on an outward breath. “Hogwarts is sharing its history. Listen. Focus with your inner ear,” he added in a parody of Professor Trelawney so accurate it made Hermione chortle.

“Perhaps I really am a squib,” Neville whispered back after Hermione’s eyes widened in wonder. He still couldn’t hear it.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have terrorised you into doubting yourself since the day we met.” Draco tapped his little finger against Neville’s. “Slytherin, Gryffindor; Grindelwald, Dumbledore…”

“Started as friends and became enemies, opposite to us.”

“I know.” Draco leaned so close his lips touched Neville’s ear. “We’re going to be epic.”

And then Neville heard.

Manipulations, backstabbing and betrayals; lust, envy and shame; friendships turned sour until each soul felt isolated from the rest, not realising they all felt the same; and then hope. Friendships and families between Pureblood, Half-blood and Muggle-born began within these walls. Each fought alongside each other to protect everything these walls stood for. Two Pureblood families reunited in manners befitting the Houses they represented – one with humble apology, one in defiance of Hogwarts’ greatest threat.

Hermione and Luna each held one of Ginny’s hands. Fred had been killed shortly after Percy apologised for being a twat by joining the fight. “George wouldn’t be able to make it through a day without Percy. Dad says he came back to us just in time,” Ginny whispered as she leaned against Hermione’s shoulder. Luna summoned a box of tissues and dainty waste basket. Ginny made good use of both.

Neville’s hand moved protectively to the small of Draco’s back as he lowered his head against the stares of everyone else in the room. To keep surviving Death Eaters from seeking revenge, Harry told no-one of Narcissa’s profoundly simple lie to the Dark Lord – ‘He is dead.’ No-one except Neville and then only because he knew Neville would not tell. Now nearly two dozen people knew, including her previously oblivious son. Neville drew soothing circles against Draco’s back. “You should be proud,” he breathed into a pale ear.

Draco nodded tersely, tensely, yet allowed himself to fit against the curve of Neville’s arm.

Hogwarts hadn’t finished with them yet. Snippets of histories from the school’s origins to the recent past formed a picture larger than the double rise and fall of Tom Riddle. Then Hogwarts turned the page and Helena Ravenclaw spoke again.

“My mother and her friends built Hogwarts but it was only a shell when it opened. Students past and present provided the heart and soul. This time Hogwarts will be complete when the story begins. Just as before, help will always be given to those who deserve it. Hogwarts thanks you.”

“You’re welcome Hogwarts,” Luna said to the enchanted ceiling. Neville and Ginny smiled. Helena Ravenclaw glowed brightly and then disappeared. “Oh, that’s nice. Hogwarts helped her move on.”

Not a soul rolled their eyes or made disparaging comments. They could feel the truth of Luna’s words.

Professor McGonagall gently cleared her throat. “The Great Hall is complete. Well done, all of you.” She placed a sympathetic hand on Ginny’s shoulder while giving her Task Force three days off. “While this break is well-earned, I do hope to see you all return. Misters Malfoy and Longbottom, there is one other room Hogwarts would like you to repair before this evening ends. It shan’t take long,” McGonagall added quietly.

“Why us?” Draco asked with shrewd suspicion.

“Miss Granger appears to have a theory,” Professor McGonagall replied wryly.

Draco eyed Hermione warily but let her speak.

“The friendship between Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor became animosity soon after the school opened, possibly before, and the canker spread to the students of their respective Houses. The Sorting Hat’s been warning us for years to put differences aside, that only unity can provide an impenetrable defence against the greatest evils. Neville and Draco are repairing the rift between Gryffindor and Slytherin, healing the school’s most grievous injury. Certain parts of the castle, important parts, respond to them in a particular way because Hogwarts loves that they found friendship then… and then love within these walls.” Hermione was more uncomfortable saying the ‘L’ word than the young wizards were hearing it.

“As if fighting Moaning Myrtle for your affections wasn’t enough, I’m up against a castle?” Neville complained.

“And despite my best efforts to be completely undesirable! Imagine the swarms of admirers you’d have to contend with if I wasn’t a git?” Draco countered.

Ginny grinned alongside Neville. “Starting to make sense,” she said before hugging him goodbye. “Although I’m still pissed neither you nor Harry told me.”

“Harry didn’t actually… I haven’t told him yet.”

“That’s okay. I have.” Ginny winked and then waved down Percy, George and Bill so they could take the same portkey to the Burrow. “We’re not telling Ron yet, though. Are we Hermione?”

Hermione grimaced and shook her head as she offered her left hand to Draco. Her forearm remained scarred where his aunt Bellatrix had carved ‘Mudblood’ into it.

“It’s customary to shake **right** hands, Granger, even in Muggle-land.”

“Yes, but I thought you might need reminding how agonising it is for me to be civil to you. And that Neville might need reminding that I value his friendship. He’s always stood beside or against us as necessary.”

“Hurt him and you’ll destroy me kind of speech?” Draco asked with one eyebrow cockily raised.

“Precisely,” Hermione said with a hint of smile.

Draco briefly shook her hand. “That works both ways you know. I tend to be very possessive and protective of what’s mine.”

Neville grinned dorkily. He imagined that authoritative voice in a different context thanks to Draco’s ‘Shag, definitely’ comment but quickly quashed those thoughts as they followed Professor McGonagall to the Headmaster’s office. The portraits were the only objects not out of place and they talked to Minerva all at once, apart from those of Dumbledore and Snape who conversed quietly between themselves. Minerva raised one hand for silence, and got it.

“Each of these witches and wizards selected one member for the Great Hall Task Force, including those from the ministry. I was only Headmistress during that dreadful summer following Professor Dumbledore’s death but they included me in their number.”

“Granger,” Draco said as Neville also guessed Hermione as Minerva McGonagall’s choice.

“No. Lovegood,” Minerva corrected them slyly. “Phineas Nigellus requested Miss Granger.”

“And she was no doubt splendid as I predicted. Bossy shoulders on that one! They need to be to support that mind of hers. Sharp tongued with it. What a Slytherin Granger would have made had she the luck to be born of wizards rather than Muggles.” The portrait that spoke appeared to be almost as arrogant and spiteful as Voldemort but at least Phineas Nigellus was recognisably human.

“Need we threaten you again with turpentine Phineas?” Snape’s portrait drawled. “Surely you’ve realised that Toujours Pur is nonsense.”

“So it is done?” Albus Dumbledore asked before the first Slytherin headmaster could retaliate. “The heart of the Great Hall beats again?”

“Not quite Albus. It seems we were mistaken. The Great Hall is the **soul** of Hogwarts. The Room That Is No More forms the heart.”

“Do you mean the Room of Hidden Things?” Draco asked.

“Requirement,” Neville corrected him.

“Crabbe destroyed it with Fiend Fyre, the absolute fool.”

“Luckily for Harry it got rid of that Horcrux. Crabbe’s an unintentional hero,” Neville pointed out.

“He’s a dead tosspot.”

The figure in Snape’s portrait closed its eyes and pinched the bridge of its beaked nose between finger and thumb as it muttered into the palm of its hand. Then it leaned back in its chair. “Your choice is clear now Albus. Mr Malfoy certainly brings dignity to the occasion.”

“That isn’t why I requested Draco, Severus…”

“ **You** requested **me**? I tried to kill you!”

“Or rather, you tried to avoid killing me. ‘Dumbledore Slain by Misplaced Trust in Death Eater Professor’ was a far more dignified headline than ‘Terrorised Adolescent Kills Ailing Old Man’, so thank you.”

“You always were more like this one than Potter, Albus. We should be grateful that the Sorting Hat decided against placing **you** in Slytherin or Hogwarts would have been under greater threat.” This remark earned the portrait of an ancient wizard malevolent stares from Snape and Phineas Nigellus.

“ _This one_ , as you say Dippet, has made two very important decisions more wisely than I at his age. Perhaps together they can find the lost room.” Dumbledore analysed Draco and Neville with a bright gaze.

Snape’s black eyes narrowed. “Perhaps they already have. Or rather, perhaps the room found them.”

The wall of portraits became a cacophony of debate. Professor McGonagall ushered the exhausted young wizards back downstairs. “You gentlemen take your three day break. Who knows, they may even have finished arguing by then. Whenever you do get around to fixing that office, try to remember that I’ll be using it next. **Any** decor reminiscent of Dolores Umbridge will earn scathing references to potential employers and a bat-bogey hex to the perpetrator.”

Draco and Neville described their plans for the next three days in one word—sleep! “May I owl you between extended naps?” Neville asked as they kissed goodbye.

“May? You must! Be discreet though.”

Neville remembered the message from Narcissa that he kept forgetting to talk about. Draco’s mother approached the main gates with some woman from the Ministry whose name Neville never got right, so that discussion would have to wait some more.

 

*~~~*

  
Harry invited Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, and Neville to dinner at Grimmauld Place the night of the Task Force’s first day off. “Catch up on each other’s goss,” he added from the best chair in Augusta Longbottom’s parlour.

“Ginny’s idea?” Neville asked with a tight smile.

“The gossip side of it,” Harry admitted brightly and relaxed into the chair instead of perching on the edge of it. He smiled at Neville then asked Augusta for some more fruit cake. He frowned slightly when she summoned it from the kitchen with her wand rather than going to get it so the wizards could talk privately. “It’s the first chance we’ve had for a proper catch-up. Luna’s not bringing Dean so it won’t be a couples evening, just the heart of the DA. Grimmauld Place still feels wrong without Sirius. I want to fill it with people I can truly be myself around, turn it into a home. Kreacher got rid of the darker stuff after ‘Master went missing’ – he thought I’d done a bunk, and took it as criticism of his efforts until I arrived at Hogwarts. Some parts still look like a shrine to Slytherin but I’m slowly continuing Sirius’ good work by sneaking Gryffindor and Muggle influences into the place.” Harry’s grin as he mentioned his godfather carried a hint of sadness and guilt that Neville knew would never entirely go away. He agreed to go.

His gran seemed less than impressed with their famous visitor. “I had no idea he’d be so **ordinary**.”

“That’s what we love about him Gran.” Those statements told Neville how he fell for Draco Malfoy. He looked at his hands. Draco became interested in Neville because, for a while, he didn’t seem as ordinary as he was. Once they had the chance to know each other better, if they had the chance, Draco was certain to be disappointed and begin to look elsewhere.

“Are you alright Neville?” Gran asked. “You’re suddenly rather peaky. Those Hogwarts house-elves mustn’t have been feeding you properly.”

Neville told her he was just tired and would catch a long nap before heading to Harry’s. He lay on his bed staring at the ceiling while on his back, or at the wall in front of him while on his stomach, unable to hold a position long enough to get comfortable. Doomed from the start, he concluded. Without Hogwarts to sustain them the relationship was destined to fail.

An owl tapped at his window.

_Your lack of sought after contact leads me to wonder whether you:_   
_a) died of exhaustion_   
_b) have decided this is a mistake_   
_c) can’t think of anything to say_   
_If a, an invite to your funeral would be appreciated. If b, don’t bother to reply. If c, I spy with Moody’s Mad Eye something that could be malicious…_

Neville laughed and played along. Owls swooped to and from Malfoy Manor all afternoon. _So much for discreet_ , he added to his last guess.

 _I’m home alone. Even the house-elf is at Hogwarts_.

 _Could have mentioned that earlier_.

_Is that a come on?_

_Yes_.

 _You’re right. I should have mentioned it earlier_.

 _This was fun, though. Thanks for starting it off. Heading to Harry’s now. I’ll take note of Luna’s finest moments and pass them on_.

 _Appreciate that. Thanks for playing. I was pretty sure the answer was b_.

 _If this is a mistake I’d like to keep making it. Word of warning, I’m as dull as I always was_.

_You were never dull—a bit dim at times, but never boring. Blaise and Bulstrode just turned up uninvited so no more owls today._

Neville didn’t mind too much. He was late to Harry’s as it was.

 

*~~~*

  
Dinner conversation centred on Harry’s godson, Teddy Lupin, who was now old enough to smile on purpose and not much else.

“Being a Metamorphmagus and a werewolf…”

“Teddy **isn’t** a werewolf Ron,” Hermione said in the tone indicating they’d had similar conversations before. Ron ignored her, as he probably did every other time.

“…do you reckon he can **choose** to change?”

Harry and Ginny nodded as though that’d be cool. Hermione disagreed. “Of course not Ron. Besides, why would anybody **want** to be a werewolf?”

Ron muttered something about not mattering if a girlfriend was in the mood for oral intimate contact, only worded rather more crudely than Neville’s mental editing in Hermione’s voice. Ginny and Hermione glared at Ron. Harry spilled the peach cider he was pouring for Luna. Neville mentally re-edited the last half of Ron’s comment in Draco’s voice and was saved from having to leave the table when Luna began talking about Lavender Brown’s recovery.

“…she has a lingering facial hair problem but apparently Muggles make creams for that. Seamus says Lavender enjoyed their date at the car races but doesn’t think he’ll take her again. She kept growling at the cars and trying to run onto the track each time one passed by.”

Ginny and Hermione shared a glance that didn’t bode well for Neville. “And how are things between you and Dean, Luna?” Hermione asked as the group of friends moved into the sitting room.

“We broke up. Once the war-time adrenaline faded away we realised we had nothing in common.” Luna replied as though she’d bought new shoes. “The plum sauce was delicious Kreacher.”

“Thank you Mistress Luna.”

“So, Neville…”

Harry interrupted Hermione with a loud complaint about the weekly increase of volunteers abandoning the Hogwarts reconstruction project. “…because they didn’t think it would take so long.”

“It’s a ruddy great castle!” Ron declared and flopped into an armchair. “Did they reckon it’d be done by tea-time?”

Harry and Ginny opted to share a couch. Ginny sat perpendicular to Harry so she could rest her legs across his lap. Harry’s hands draped casually over her knees, occasionally touching her while he talked. Neville was jealous of their comfortable contact. “Shame we couldn’t just inflate Hogwarts like a bouncy castle,” Harry said. Hermione nodded.

“A what?” Ron asked. Neville was suddenly too tired to do more than listen as Hermione and Harry explained the Muggle phenomenon of a giant castle-shaped balloon made solely for jumping around on.

“We have to tell Dad!” Ginny insisted to Ron. “He’d get one for the Burrow, for sure.”

“They’re supposed to be for children,” Hermione pointed out.

“I’d still have a go,” Harry admitted with a grin.

“It’d be brilliant,” Ron agreed.

Neville said nothing, although he agreed with his friends, only yawned. He hadn’t been sleeping well since Draco said _‘Shag, definitely’_ because his late-night mind kept taking him places he wasn’t quite ready to visit while awake.

 

_Draco, Draco, me and Draco. Holy…_

Unfortunately, Neville’s yawn reminded Ron that he was there and he decided to give Neville a ribbing over his new best friend.

“Eh?” Neville pretended not to hear him properly. “I’m heading home,” he added with another yawn before Hermione or Ginny could blurt the word ‘boyfriend’.

“See you, Neville. Thanks for coming,” Harry said to prevent the same thing. That was when Neville knew he and Harry were truly friends.

 

*~~~*

  
He assumed being away from Draco for a couple of days would result in a need to wank less. The opposite was true. Neville was a couple of years behind his Gryffindor dorm-mates when it came to most experiences and the art of masturbation was no exception. He’d been too busy trying not to be terrified of everything and then too busy helping younger students conquer their fears to fantasise about anybody. Now Neville woke each morning with his dick hard in his hand and Draco equally hard in his imagination. He’d begin slow, wondering how it might feel to have Draco’s hand, mouth, or (please, ghost of Godric Gryffindor) arse moving up and down his thickened shaft. Then he’d beat it, quick, closing his eyes and thrusting into his hand as he came.

Would anything feel more fantastic than Draco’s cum on Neville’s hand, through his fingers to hit his skin, as Neville came inside him?

Neville doubted it.

 

*~~~*

  
Gran still didn’t know. Neither did Lucius, or Ron. Neville mentioned it to Draco as they sat on the spiral staircase leading to the Headmaster’s office, where there were no portraits to see them together. Draco preferred it that way. His blunt dismissal cut like Sectumsempra.

“Nothing’s changed has it?” Neville demanded in accusation. “You still think I’m a worthless loser and are ashamed of what people might think of you if they find out we’re together.”

Draco’s eyes flashed. “Your friend Weasley hates me, your grandmother despises my entire ancestry from the dawn of time, Father’s pitching fits over the fact that I have a boyfriend – Pureblood status does not make that any more acceptable in his mind, let me assure you. If Lovegood’s right about the origins of _Black Diamond and the Inferior Pureblood_ —which does exist, I’m currently reading it—then he’s going to be even less impressed to find out who...”

Neville interrupted with the small-voiced admission that he hadn’t told Gran he was gay yet and Draco turned Neville’s earlier accusation against him.

“So I was wrong,” Neville countered loudly. “Everything’s changed. Why does everyone keep assuming we have to remain enemies?”

“Let’s review our history shall we?” Mild amusement seeped through Draco’s irritation.

Neville tried to smile. “I’d rather focus on our future.”

“Even in that bossy yet somehow sulky tone, that’s surprisingly romantic.” Draco touched their fingers together and Neville held on. “You constantly surprise me. So—how are we going to avoid ending up in Luna’s favourite book?”

“Why are you risking ticking Lucius off to be with me?” Neville asked. He wasn’t anything special. Plus he’d started getting pudgy again because Gran insisted on overfeeding him. She blamed it on her father’s Italian ancestry. _‘We say I Love You with food, now eat!’_

“Haven’t you figured it out yet?” Draco asked tentatively.

Neville admitted his instincts and hopes were contradicted by the reactions of his friends. He wasn’t sure of anything beyond wanting to be with Draco.

“Don’t make me say it Longbottom,” Draco warned him.

The timed Caterwaul wailed. Now that Narcissa and three of the professors knew Neville and Draco were dating (without an opportunity to actually go on a date) and the Headmaster’s office was complete, they were no longer forced into each other’s company. Instead, they were assigned work details at opposing ends of the castle. Neville complained by owl when he got home.

 _Slughorn must have heard us talking the night we had to stay in the Great Hall and they’re worried about finding us sans pants in a corridor_ , Draco replied. _Don’t pretend you aren’t thinking about it. I am!_

They chose a day later in the week and arranged to meet at the edge of the Forbidden Forest instead of reporting to work duty. They wavered between greeting each other with innocent conversation and bounding in for a passionate kiss. Chuckling over the mutually awkward moment, they put a hand on the other’s waist and made their way into the forest. Draco chose a spot deep enough for privacy but close enough to hear the Caterwauls. Then they began kissing, pressed together tightly, lips and hands moving faster, pressing harder, rubbing, squeezing, panting, and finding bare skin. Both moaned gutturally as hands slid up shirts and down jeans. Kiss and breaths faltered as they fumbled to bring each other off while yearning to savour every sensation. They came so quickly, too quickly. The final pleasure of release was almost a disappointment.

“Where can we meet?” Neville asked between slow but short kisses. Their heads rested on each other’s shoulders. Their hands remained in each other’s pants. “I want to see you away from here. Talk, this,” he ran two fingertips over Draco’s sticky dick, “more.”

Draco’s hand was on Neville’s bum. He took it away and began adjusting his clothing. “Father’s still under house arrest while Ministry investigations continue. He only leaves when the Wizengamot questions him. Does your grandmother get out much? If you’re connected to the Floo network…”

 

*~~~*

  
Draco stepped out of Augusta Longbottom’s fireplace in a dignified manner. Neville remembered Cornelius Fudge tumbling through and wondered at Draco’s physical grace. Shame his greeting didn’t match. “Expected your house to be dumpier than this.”

“If that was meant as a compliment Malfoy you could have worded it better.”

“Sorry. How about: Very nice. Thank you, Mr Longbottom, for inviting me into your lovely home.” Draco laughed and twisted his leg away as Neville reached out to smack it. “Straight to foreplay without a kiss hello? You perv!”

Without warning Neville tackled him then kissed him rather possessively. “Hello,” Neville said throatily.

“Hello,” Draco replied just as hoarsely and they kissed again. They managed to stumble and fumble along to Neville’s bed, untangle limbs as shirts got caught on the way over their heads, and kick pants onto the floor before losing control and focussing only on emptying their balls.

“Your dick feels so much better in my hand than mine dies,” Neville murmured as he coated his fingers and palm with Draco’s cum. Draco bucked slightly and gave Neville more cum to slide in.

Draco’s lazy kiss gradually became more vigorous and they grew hard again. They pressed lips to neck, chest, shoulders, face, throat, lips. Licking and kissing before holding their dicks together this time. Balls squished and bounced together as they flipped onto one side, wrapped a leg around their partner and rutted until orgasm.

“A pleasant day, if not quite what I had in mind,” Draco said in broken breaths once their lips became too sore to kiss anymore.

“Not much for conversation anyway, are you?”

“Ha! I’ll have you know … You’re right, actually. Most conversations in the Slytherin common room involved me big-noting myself while everyone but Theodore Nott nodded along like I was the wisest monkey among them. Put me in a room of fully grown Death Eaters and I barely said ‘oh?’”

“What were you thinking when you said ‘oh’?”

“Die evil scum, die! Or something similar.” Draco stretched and Neville automatically flattened a palm against Draco’s pale skin and stared at the improbability of this moment. “Beg pardon, but why are you with me again?” Draco asked in a hush.

“Haven’t you figured that out yet?” Neville’s mouth may have teased Draco but his eyes didn’t.

“Don’t say it.”

Neville barely heard him. “Are you afraid of this?” he asked to mask his own fear.

“Terrified,” Draco admitted then placed a quick, smacking kiss over half of Neville’s mouth and hurried about getting his clothes on properly.

Neville lay back and watched with one hand on his belly, the other beneath his head, as he enjoyed the sight of semi-naked Draco Malfoy bounding out of his bead. The way Draco put on his pants, tucked in his shirt, ran a sweaty (god, hopefully spunky) hand through sweat and sex tousled hair as he looked around for his left shoe—every movement was perfect and deserved a special place in Neville’s memory.

Draco found his shoe and pointed it threateningly at Neville. “Tell anyone you tossed my dice…”

“And you’ll what?” Neville challenged him without moving beyond a satisfied grin. _Welcome to Neville Heaven, Draco. God you’re gorgeous!_

“And I won’t let you do it again.” It was the perfect threat.

Neville pressed his lips between finger and thumb. Their eyes met, retaining those last remnants of something wild and wonderful. “Send me an owl when you get home, or a Patronus, so I know you haven’t splinched yourself. What is your Patronus?” he asked as Draco sat back on the bed to remove his shoes. He’d put both socks on the one foot.

“That’s a rather personal question if you don’t mind, Neville.”

Their smiles were the same mottled confusion of lust, humour, awe, sadness, and that other thing they shouldn’t say. It would be easier if this physical aspect was the sum of their attraction. But it wasn’t. Or if their relationship had been born in the turmoil of war like Dean and Luna’s, then there’d be no need to justify it because ‘these things just happen’. Neville loved Draco. He untucked a corner of Draco’s shirt and caressed bare flesh with curled knuckles. He’d seen that patch of skin, touched it with his mouth, possibly come on it. “I’ll show you mine,” he said seductively. Patronus, body, heart, soul—whichever Draco was willing to reveal in turn…

Draco’s distinctly naughty smile as he removed Neville’s hand, reclaimed his shirt and tucked it back in was almost as rewarding. “Another time,” Draco promised. He walked from Neville’s room, leaving the door open so Neville could watch him toss a handful of Floo powder into the parlour hearth then step into the green flames and whirl away.

Neville closed his door without leaving the bed. He remained sprawled on his back as if nailed there and grinned at the ceiling. “Draco Malfoy’s boyfriend, me!” He pulled his pillow across his face and filled it with a triumphant battle cry, kicking his heels against the mattress before flopping, exhausted, into his original position. He fell asleep with both pillow and grin still on his face.

 

*~~~*

  
They ‘coincidentally’ met in Diagon Alley on the weekends and decided to go to Fortescues once it reopened, or browsed for broomsticks. Neville pointed out that he still wasn’t the best flyer as they kissed goodbye inside an empty store. Although they were fully clothed, their dicks and balls were also saying a vigorous farewell.

“As long as one of us can sit a stick we’ll do alright.”

Draco’s comment made Neville come. His head fell to Draco’s shoulder. Draco’s arm bent up to hold him there as he arched and continued rubbing against Neville until he came too.

“When?” Neville asked without a voice. Draco heard.

“Restoration Ball at Hogwarts, we’ll christen a common room.”

“Which one?”

“Gryffindor of course,” Draco lifted his head so Neville could nip more comfortably at his throat, “then Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, any other room we can get into. We might have to sneak in with the students and it could take a couple of years, but…”

Neville tightened his embrace so their hearts beat beside each other. This was Draco’s way of asking him to be his long-term, steady boyfriend. Neville said “Yes.”

 

*~~~*

  
Gran almost caught them together in Neville’s room—fully dressed and playing Wizard’s Chess, of all things.

“Who were you talking to?” she accused as she opened his door.

“My opponent,” Neville replied and gestured to the chair Draco recently vacated in favour of playing Boggart in the Cupboard.

“Really Neville, after all you’ve accomplished these past years you should be surrounded by friends. **Quality** friends, not like that horrid Malfoy boy.”

“Draco and I will remain friends long after Hogwarts reopens.”

“Of course you will, until his family gain a high profile off your reputation and he stabs you in the foot! You’re too soft and trusting, Neville, gullible. I thought you’d finally grown up. Tea will be ready in approximately seven minutes.”

“Yes Gran.” Neville ignored the other comments so she’d get out.

Draco’s eyes were like small circles of slate when he came out of Neville’s closet. “Why didn’t you say anything? You don’t believe that garbage do you?” Draco demanded. Neville shook his head. “I have no idea what Mother’s motives were for throwing us together in the first place but… my motives for keeping us together are purely sexual. And only I get to speak to you like that!”

Neville tried to smile. Draco touched Neville’s face and arm. He started to say something. Neville stopped him after the second false start. “Don’t say it. Not now, not like this.”

Draco nodded, experiencing the same blend of relief and disappointment, and then kissed him. They stood cheek to cheek.

“You’re not horrid,” Neville told him firmly.

“Forgiving and compassionate isn’t the same as gullible,” Draco murmured back. They kissed goodbye and Draco apparated out of the Longbottom house.

A cockatiel arrived as the Longbottoms took tea on the back garden. Neville caught the note before it landed in the sugar bowl. _Send a diagram of your board and we’ll finish the game by owl. P.S. my Patronus has been a lyrebird since our first kiss_.

“Accio!” Gran said snappily and Draco’s note flew out of Neville’s hand before his smile finished forming. Augusta’s eyes widened as they flitted over the words. “You had a witch in your room!”

“No Gran.”

“A Muggle?!”

“No Gran, a wizard. How many Muggle's do you know that conjure a Patronus?”

“That is not amusing Neville. Go to your room until you can take this seriously.”

“I’m of age Gran. I choose when to spend time in my room and who with. I have a boyfriend. The note is from him. We were talking and playing chess this afternoon. That’s all.”

Augusta handed Neville back his note. “Is this wizard suitable, worthy of one who defied He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? Who is his family?”

“I’m going out with **him** not his family.”

“If it’s that Malfoy filth…!” Her vehement loathing surprised him but he wasn’t letting her talk about his boyfriend like that.

“Then I’d be incredibly lucky!”

“He may have a magical ancestry as ancient as yours Neville but it is anything but pure. Blacks and Malfoys have always produced villains vile enough to rival the Gaunts. Hopefully that boy is as bent as Grindelwald because then both lines will die with him.”

Neville began to protest but Gran had decades of rage to support her. “Your generation confronted He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at his weakest. You have no experience of the horrors that preceded him. I was older than you when Grindelwald came to power! You have finally made your father and mother proud. Do not let them down again by letting vulgar, physical cravings overcome common sense.”

“The Blacks produced Sirius…” But his gran had an argument against this line of attack too.

“A mass-murderer.”

“Sirius was innocent. He was exonerated by Kingsley Shacklebolt once he became Minster for Magic.”

“Posthumously.”

“And by Albus Dumbledore before that!”

“You have never spoken so disrespectfully before.”

“You’ve never spoken utter tosh before!”

“’Tosh?’ What’s that? Sounds like a word the Weasley’s use.”

“Yes, it is. I’ve been having it off with Percy Weasley, former Head Boy of Hogwarts and Undersecretary to the minister. Is that suitable?” Neville said with weary sarcasm. Unfortunately his gran didn’t pick up on it.

“Isn’t he the buffoon who failed to notice Barty Crouch was Imperiused?”

“Yes, that’s him.” Neville replied with gusto and almost laughed at his own feigned enthusiasm.

Augusta sniffed. “A step up from the Malfoy boy, albeit a small one. Do try to refine your tastes Neville.”

 

*~~~*

  
They sat an innocent distance apart with their feet in the lake and watched the Giant Squid chase Seamus Finnigan. The laughter of Dean Thomas and Ron Weasley encouraged Seamus to swim faster. The reconstruction of Hogwarts was complete. Neville told Draco about his grandmother’s reaction to the note.

“Gran pretty much said as long as it’s anyone but you.”

Draco’s silence registered everything Neville expected but surprise. Negativity swirled between and around them. Neville tried sweeping it away. “Come to the Restoration Ball with me, as my date?” he asked.

Draco got to his feet. “Rebel against your grandmother with someone else.”

“Is this lack of confidence in me, or you?” Neville asked without moving.

“Us. One dance is all it’s going to take for the masses to declare that you’re a fool and I’m using you. We’ve only lasted this long because no-one besides us knows we’re together.”

“Four of my friends know.”

“Do they know how much time we spend together? How we spend that time? How late we stay up writing back and forth?”

Neville turned away with his heart in his throat.

“Didn’t think so,” Draco said snidely. “Anyway, who’ve I got to tell? Friends? Goyle blames me for what happened to Crabbe. Pansy is pissed off that I’ve no interest in porking her. Suggesting Millicent hire a body guard when she and Blaise told me they’d eloped ensured they’ll never be calling again. Family? What Mother doesn’t already know, she suspects. Father’s still negotiating blood matches with daughters of his associates.”

“There’s no point telling my parents. They don’t know who I am and couldn’t care less who you are.”

Draco sat beside him again, closer than before but not enough to reveal the nature of their relationship. Neville subtly reached for his hand. Draco edged away and sat on his hands as he stared at the centre of the lake. “We’ve been fooling ourselves, thinking that this could work.”

“You said the same thing when I began standing up to the Carrows.”

“Everybody who followed your example got tortured some more.”

“And stayed behind to defend Hogwarts,” Neville pointed out.

“Or died trying,” Draco countered.

“Death isn’t defeat. We proved our spirits couldn’t be beaten even though our hearts were broken.”

Neville’s adamant declaration gained Draco’s full attention. Respect and envy were boldly visible in his handsome features, so was that which must remain unsaid. “Will you come to the Restoration Ball with me Neville?”

“As your friend or your date?” asked Neville in turn. His tone made it clear that Draco’s response would influence his.

“As my boyfriend,” Draco solemnly replied.

Neville said yes.

 

*~~~*

  
Neville approached the gates of Malfoy Manor, uncertain as to who would be waiting. He fidgeted with the cuffs, collar, lapels, and sleeves of his dress-robes to distract him from churning emotions. Hope was swallowed by anger, resentment and sadness when Topsy appeared at the gate, sniffling.

“He’s not coming, is he?” Neville asked tetchily. He was sick of being ‘definitely on/possibly off’ with Draco. It was time to be one or the other, definitely not possibly.

“Master Draco will be late. Master Lucius…” Topsy’s stance and tone became angrier than Neville’s. The house-elf hurried to regain her temper before speaking ill of her family. “Mistress has placed a concealment charm at the gate to shield Master’s identity from Master Lucius. Master Draco asks that Master Neville please wait patiently. He is hoping this evening will go well despite his tardiness.”

Guilt and worry accompanied the new surge of hope. “Thank you Topsy.”

“Topsy must return to Mistress and the young master. Master Neville will be waiting?”

He nodded and Topsy smiled before disapparating.

 

*~~~*

  
“Let’s go,” Draco said abruptly as he apparated to the inside of the gate and let himself out. His usually impeccable style was tousled and awry. He snatched at Neville’s hand. “Ready?”

“I’ll lead.” Neville took control of their apparition to Hogsmeade. Draco didn’t let go once they arrived. “What happened?” Neville asked as they walked to Hogwarts as a couple.

“Intercepted a jinx aimed at my mother. One thing to envy Muggles for: deathless divorce. Parental tension’s been building since Riddle returned. The Dumbledore problem and having that thing take over the house tipped the balance. Father’s reaction to me accompanying a wizard rather than a witch tonight knocked the scales off the table and through the wall. My parents were bonded the old way. If Mother decides she’s truly had enough…”

Neville released Draco’s hand and put an arm around him instead. Not that long ago Draco wouldn’t talk to Neville about anything. Now they shared a multitude of things not disclosed to anyone else. Neville felt guilty about his earlier assumption that Draco had chickened out of coming tonight when he gratefully accepted Neville’s embrace and returned it, here, on the road between Hogsmeade and Hogwarts where anybody behind them could see. Neville clumsily kissed the corner of Draco’s eyebrow.

“If Narcissa hasn’t convinced Lucius by the time you get home tonight, we’ll go back to being discreet.”

Draco kissed the corner of Neville’s mouth. “Thank you.”

 

*~~~*

  
Luna dragged a Hufflepuff wizard from her year through the Great Hall to greet Neville and Draco. Her dress featured emblems and colours from every house of Hogwarts. Badger and snake chased each other all over her skirt while the lion alternately crouched and pawed at the raven swooping from shoulder to shoulder. “This is Dylan. His mother’s a Muggle and he isn’t allowed back at Hogwarts because one of Tom Riddle’s giants stepped on his father. She thinks we’re at the movers,” Luna added confidently.

“Movies,” Dylan corrected her with a smile at Neville while subtly increasing his distance from Draco.

“Dylan thinks you’re still a Death Eater,” Luna brightly explained her date’s behaviour to Draco. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted people knowing you’re Neville’s lover or not so I haven’t told anyone.”

“We’re currently keeping it hush, so thanks for that Luna,” Draco replied drolly. Neville barely kept back a chortle as he copied Draco’s blank expression. Luna smiled and wandered off to join the dancing crowd. Dylan hurried after her. “Honestly, how Lovegood didn’t accidentally bring down Tom Riddle before Potter got to him is beyond me,” Draco declared.

Neville couldn’t contain his amusement that time and Draco immediately asked him to dance. Neville sucked the laugh back down his throat. He hadn’t given any thought to the dancing aspect of the ball. Deliberately being out in public with Draco, the opportunity for a snog or sneaking upstairs were all he’d considered. “Did you see me at rehearsals for the Yule Ball? I’m dreadful.”

“And I’m amazing. I won’t let you make a fool of us,” Draco assured him.

Neville almost choked on his heartbeat as Draco led him to the secluded patch of dance floor furthest from the band. All the flamboyant action was elsewhere so on-one was watching them. Each placed one hand on their partner’s shoulder with the other arm about their partner’s waist. They danced slowly, shyly, looking anywhere but their partner’s face. The moment their eyes met Draco ensured their lips followed.

“Can we go upstairs?” he asked.

Neville nodded. Privacy was a brilliant idea. He didn’t want some spectator’s comment to cause a retreat now that they were being so brave, plus they’d talked more than once about christening the Gryffindor common room tonight. They left the Great Hall with their index fingers hooked together, intending to explore changes around the castle at a dawdling pace, and headed to ‘their’ room first. They could hear someone already inside the Room of Change.

“Neville and Malfoy made this, together?” Ron asked in audible awe.

“They make a surprisingly good team,” Hermione replied. “About that,” she added. Neville watched Draco’s features sharpen as they eavesdropped.

“I know. We need to hang out with Neville more often so he’s not lumped with only Malfoy for company. Luna’s right, we were crap friends to him at school. No wonder he’s content to put up with that evil git.”

“Draco’s not evil…”

“So it’s ‘Draco’ now is it? Gone over to the dark side, have we?”

“You’re impossible Ron!”

“Still think he’s a git then?”

“Well, yes,” Hermione admitted. “But Neville doesn’t. And Draco likes him.” Neville knew Draco more than liked him. Mischievous smiles followed by a lightning quick kiss proved it.

“Course he does, Neville was his favourite punching bag all through school. Ruddy obsessed…”

“Promise me you won’t be cruel if you see them together,” Hermione blurted loudly.

“Together how?” Ron asked with suspicious disapproval.

“Together at all! Just, be the friend you should have been all along.” Hermione’s agitation was contagious. Neville’s hands shook.

“Hey,” Ron said soothingly. “It’s alright. Come here. Who knows what went on here while we were chasing Horcruxes, eh? Everything’s going to be fine. Show us more of the rooms you and Ginny fixed up, yeah?”

Neville and Draco hurried away before being traumatised by sounds of Ron and Hermione kissing. Draco surprised Neville by smiling broadly as they ran to Gryffindor tower. “If those two can bicker for seven years and end up together then perhaps I’ve been oversensitive about our differences,” Draco admitted. He pointed across the common room. “Comfy couch by the fireplace, do me on it.”

Neville reversed to the back of the couch and flipped over it to land on his back along the cushions. Draco vaulted over to land on Neville’s abdomen.

“Oof!”

Draco didn’t give Neville time to catch his breath before bringing their mouths together and aiming his wand to nonverbally light the fire. “If the only way to protect us and preserve this is to keep us secret then we should do that until things beyond our control calm down. Forcing people to accept this won’t do either of us any favours.”

“We don’t have anything to be ashamed of,” Neville said.

Draco smiled in agreement and kissed Neville with affection so deep that he felt it in his soul. “I love you Longbottom. Lovegood and Mother know we’re intimately connected,” Draco slid suggestively on Neville’s lap, making him hard. “So it isn’t entirely secret, and I get to gloat to somebody about how fabulous my boyfriend is.”

“You’ve been talking to Luna and your mother about us?”

“I arrived home from that first visit to your house covered in spunk and a goofy grin. Mother immediately figured out want went on and suggested I take more effort to make myself presentable next time. I haven’t given Luna details but she isn’t in Ravenclaw for nothing. You heard her earlier—lover.”

Neville had begun flexing his thighs and lifting his hips when Draco mentioned their first afternoon of adult play. He’d already lost the ability to think logically and started undoing Draco’s dress-robes.

“Are you listening to me?” Draco asked, slapping Neville’s hand. Neville nodded.

“Not as closely as I’m watching you. You said ‘I love you’ and then something else my brain forgot to record, but you mean everything you’ve been saying. I love your expression when you’re earnest as much as your smile. I would have been crushing on you for years if you’d smiled and laughed like this during school.”

“How much worse would you have been at Potions had you been horny **and** intimidated?” Draco teased as he began helping Neville remove his clothes.

“Hogwarts would have needed rebuilding twice a week.” Neville sat up enough to brush his lips over Draco’s collarbone once they opened his shirt. Draco’s arms went limp and Neville easily slid the sleeves over them. His hands and arms immediately folded over Draco’s back, holding him close as they kissed. The movement of Draco’s arms was heavy, wooden, and he struggled to find a way under Neville’s clothing when he’d obviously rather enjoy being played with. Neville carefully pushed Draco’s hands away. “Let me.” Draco’s boneless compliance and expressions of pleasure were so arousing the one time Neville sucked him off that he tried guiding him onto his back to do it again.

Draco resisted. “I want to be on top.” His husky words became hurried when Neville retreated, startled. “Not **the** top, just **on** top. I want to do it like this.”

Neville sealed the gap between them. “Yeah, okay.” He kissed the side of Draco’s neck. “I was hoping to blow you first. Can’t…”

Draco leaned back so fast he almost tore Neville’s arms from their sockets. “Come on then!” he commanded eagerly. Neville laughed at Draco’s hasty attempt to get the rest of his clothes off. Their happy eyes met.

 

*~~~*

  
Neville slurped and sucked while keeping an occasional eye on Draco’s reaction. One pale arm was flung over the armrest Draco used as a pillow, his pointed chin tilted up and his often cruel mouth opened enough to emit soft sounds of satisfaction. Neville couldn’t see his eyes. They were closed. His other hand wended its teasing way down the gently wiggling body, tempting Neville to follow its progress with his already busy mouth. Draco caressed Neville’s cheek. “Pocket,” he said in a breath. His dragged his other arm from the armrest to touch Neville’s hair, neck, and naked shoulder. “You feel so beautifully sexy. If I look at you, with your mouth on me, I’ll come.”

Neville nestled his face against Draco’s hip as reached into a pocket for lubricant. There’d been so many to choose from in the adult section of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes that he’d almost given up and walked out of the shop. Then he’d closed his eyes and thought of Draco as they kissed and talked. White peaches and cinnamon came to mind, and when he opened his eyes the labels on everything containing both of those ingredients had been glowing.

Draco took the tube from Neville’s hand. “That’s the one I bought, too.” He smiled with more than amusement and flipped open the lid with his teeth. Neville kept watching his face while kissing his hip. “I’ve developed a terrible habit of fingering myself while I wank since the first time you blew me.” The quirk of his lips and mischief in his eyes showed he got the reaction he sought as Neville hardened against Draco’s leg and half-grunted.

“Do it now,” Neville said gruffly. “Leave your dick alone. Just, get ready for me.” He lowered his forehead to Draco’s hip to compose himself. He didn’t know how long this would take and had to ignore the way Draco slicked his fingers and put the hand between his legs. He wanted to lick them, suck them, lick his arse but if he did any of that he wouldn’t last long enough to fuck him. Neville concentrated on Draco’s face as he crawled up his body, dick dragging heavily along Draco’s thigh, to lay on him, head resting on Draco’s shoulder before his hand moved down Draco’s arm to cover his busy hand. Neville’s lungs burned as though he’d run up every stair in the castle. Each breath was roughened by anticipation. He slid his fingers over Draco’s as they slid in and out of the taut muscular ring. Both lovers groaned sharply. Their eyes met as Draco kept his fingers out and he guided Neville to take over. Neville pressed his lips to Draco’s neck as a nervous fingertip entered his lover for the first time. His pelvis reflexively jutted against Draco. “Oh, god, yes.”

“Another,” Draco practically purred. “You’re bigger than that.” He raised the knee Neville wasn’t laying on and tilted it outward. His arsehole gripped Neville’s finger, sucking it in deeper.

“Oh fuck,” Neville exclaimed softly and pushed a second finger in. “Fuck, oh, fuck.” He timed each push to coincide with Draco’s bouncing hips. Draco silently encouraged him to push deeper and faster. The noises he made when Neville obeyed resulted in a frenzied fingering. “How incredible will it feel to have my dick inside you?” Neville asked in a ragged whisper.

“Show me,” Draco moaned as he rocked around Neville’s fingers. “Fill me with cock and cum.” He needed both hands to get into the position he wanted. Neville enjoyed making him fumble by changing the pace of his fingers or twisting them inside Draco’s arse. “Make me come before we fuck Longbottom, and I’m never letting, you touch me, again.”

Neville kept his digits relatively still as he carefully rolled onto his back. “One out at a time,” he said, kissing Draco as he took each finger out. Draco’s almost whimper made Neville’s dick bounce. Their actions were hardly elegant as they co-operated to get Neville’s dick inside Draco’s slicked open arse. Draco immediately fell forward with one hand grasping Neville’s shoulder and his knees up Neville’s armpits. “You alright?” Neville asked with concern and propped Draco’s weight as well as he could.

Draco raised his head to look Neville in the eye and Neville wanted nothing more than to thrust up into him. “Fantastic, just…” Draco shifted his weight and made minor adjustments to some angles until Neville was reclining rather than flat on his back and Draco’s knees were beside their chests. He tilted his hips and gradually slid… “Ah, fantastic, truly, ah!”

Neville experimented with a gentle upward push which gave them both a great deal of pleasure. He performed a few more then quickened the pace. Draco was soon draped over him, boneless, arms around Neville’s neck and shoulders, panting heavily or lowing in his ear with every bounce. It was more incredible than anything Neville imagined. The hot slide of Draco’s arse over his dick, the way it clenched around him when they moved, it left giving head for dead. Draco’s hoarse responses to Neville’s equally quiet exclamations of wonder heightened the experience. It was so intimate. They felt the same way. Neville’s hands moved to cup Draco’s bum, guiding the angle of their hips to reach maximum penetration. Draco’s feet found purchase on the cushions and he began to ride with his hands clasped behind Neville’s neck. Neville stared at Draco’s face with astonished eyes. He was going to come, soon, and hoped Draco was similarly close to impact. Draco’s lips quirked briefly before he moved his spine in a way that made Neville arch back. They both cried out. Their union became more frantic. They slipped and slid, sat up, flipped over, reinserted and finished up with Draco on his back and his knees over Neville’s shoulders, eyes locking instantly together whenever they weren’t closed. Neville shuddered to a halt as he came. Draco made some terrific noises and wiggled beneath him in extraordinary ways but Neville couldn’t find any external signs of spunk.

“When…? Did you…?” He felt terrible. Draco’s gentle hand on his face forced Neville to look into his eyes. He didn’t appear to be disappointed.

“I did. Not how you think, but I **definitely** did.” Draco smiled a familiar gloating and superior, victorious smile then kissed Neville’s astonished mouth. “My lover is an **incredible** lay and I intend to be had by him in every room in this castle. Not tonight of course,” he quipped. “Even with a time-turner that would be impossible.” His smile softened as he captured Neville’s fringe between two fingers. “I love my lover.”

Neville’s heart added and extra beat or two to its rapid rhythm. “Your lover loves you, too,” he admitted with a proud yet crooked smile. They kissed. “Why did you say it like that the first time, just slip it into conversation?”

“Because you already knew it was true. I simply let you know that I knew, too.” Draco moved across so Neville could cuddle close beside him on the couch. “It had to be said eventually but we’d established this thing of purposely **not** saying it because the circumstances weren’t right.”

“It was easier to feel than to say properly.”

“Everything is.”

“I don’t want to go back downstairs,” Neville admitted as they relished this intimate contact. “I want to enjoy the two of us without anyone else saying anything about it.”

“Sounds ideal,” Draco replied lazily. “We’ll live here and they can build a new Gryffindor dormitory somewhere else.”

Neville chuckled gently. They cuddled for a while longer then reluctantly began getting dressed. “You don’t want to go home, do you?” he asked as Draco grimaced at the door.

“Not particularly, no.”

“It could be risky, but, would you like to spend the night with me?”

“Where?”

“At my house.”

“Not particularly, no. Somewhere else, yes. No, I’d still go home.”

Neville knew the open hostilities between Narcissa and Lucius and concern for his mother’s safety would continue to erode Draco’s enjoyment of this evening and replace it with guilt. He hugged Draco from behind. “Tell her how much I love you. She’ll be happy for you.”

Draco leaned into the embrace, head on Neville’s shoulder, hands over Neville’s. “Yes, she will.” They shared a tender kiss. “I still hate Weasley though. I’m going to be ruder to him than ever now Granger’s forcing him to be polite.”

It was a strange way to lighten the mood, yet effective. Neville pressed his grin against Draco’s neck and they chuckled, completely in love.

 

*~~~*

  
They apparated a safe distance from Malfoy Manor and kissed goodbye for possibly half an hour. They made plans to see each other again, insisted that this had been the best night of their lives, and found it ridiculously difficult to let go.

Neville’s hands found Draco’s face as irresistible as his eyes and lips did. His embrace and kiss were all Neville needed for the rest of his life.

“How am I supposed to cope without seeing your goofy face for five minutes every day?” Draco asked with a mildly teasing smile. Then he slid his fingers through Neville’s hair and brought their mouths together again.

 

*~~~*

  
Two equally fair heads were bent over a table at the Mosh-n-Nosh in Diagon Alley and there was a lot of excited pointing and debating as Neville approached them. He was surprised by how well Luna and Draco were getting along.

“History will continue repeating until we learn from our mistakes,” Luna said sagely. “Hello Neville.” She smiled brightly and then turned back to Draco. “About that other problem: how about Polyjuice potion? If you take turns then it will look like you’re both out with other people and no-one will have a chance to get suspicious. Lucius and Augusta would never know you’re more than friends.”

“Neither would anyone else,” Neville complained as he sat opposite them. Draco’s knee immediately found his under the table. There’d been no physical contact for days and Neville’s hormones decided now was a good time to remind him that once was not enough. Actually, they reminded him all the time. Their prompting was simply easier to ignore when Draco was too far away to touch. His hand snuck along Draco’s thigh and Draco’s legs snapped together. Feeling was still mutual then, good.

Draco also vetoed Luna’s Polyjuice suggestion. “I don’t want him kissing someone else, even if it’s me in disguise. What if he finds them more attractive? I’d be able to see it in his eyes.”

Neville’s hand left Draco’s lap as he sat back in surprise. “ **More** attractive than you? Are Veela male now?”

Draco grinned.

“That just proves my point.”

“This menu’s too small for me to read,” Luna declared and made it large enough for Neville and Draco to kiss behind as she held it up. “I wonder if they’ll substitute asparagus for avocado in their guacamole. Avocadoes are shaped like that because they’re actually pregnant…”

Neville didn’t get to hear pregnant what because Draco started chortling against his lips and the kiss ended in a snorting, laughing mess. Neville whispered “Love you” then asked Luna to lay the menu flat on the table so they could all read it properly. Draco’s hand rested on Neville’s knee as they made their decisions. It was comforting, but… “What if you found the Polyjuiced version of me more attractive?” Neville asked in a low, worried tone.

Draco snorted. “Don’t be stupid. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, apart from Luna of course.” He signalled to a waiter. Neville waited until Adrian Pucey finished sneering at Draco’s company, took their order and sodded off before asking Draco if he’d taken a Bludger to the head recently.

“I’m dumpy and Luna’s…” a walking Maypole with a bird singing in her hair.

Draco stared at him with familiar disdain. “Live with Riddle for nearly two years and you’ll understand the true meaning of unattractive. Two days would do it.”

“Neville didn’t mean to make it sound like you’re both shallow and only about the physical. But you have been rather horrid toward him about everything a lot longer than,” Luna stopped. “I know you’re sorry. I am too.”

“Let’s try and leave that behind us. You’re the one who insisted we were rebuilding more than Hogwarts Longbottom, so let’s get on with it.”

Neville put his head on the table and turned his face so he could smile at his irritated boyfriend. His hand reached under the table to hold Draco’s knee. Draco linked their fingers together.

“See? Beautiful,” Draco insisted. He didn’t smirk.

Their food arrived and they talked about their plans for the year. Luna was returning to Hogwarts for the final year of NEWT. Professor Sprout had arranged a traineeship for Neville at Arrowroot and Shoots, procurer and nurturer of dangerous and exotic plants. Draco hoped the Ministry would let his family retain enough of their wealth to enable him to do nothing much. Neville knew Draco had become equally fascinated with wand lore and magical architecture but doubted the point of pursuing a career in either. The magical community was unlikely to let him succeed at any venture. Luna seemed to see through his vague response.

“It’s always a shame to see talent wasted. That was the only thing Tom Riddle said that ever made sense. There’s always Muggle places,” she added. Luna might have known to which conversation that phrase belonged, but Neville didn’t.

Neither did Draco. “Unfortunately,” he replied.

Luna leaned forward and spoke quietly. “Name three Muggles who’d know who either of you were.”

“I barely know **of** Muggles let alone have names for them. Not inoffensive ones anyway,” Draco said. Neville smiled despite himself.

“Precisely,” Luna said and began transfiguring her meal into something that wasn’t on the menu.

Neville watched Draco wait for an explanation, knife and fork frozen mid dissection. He put the cutlery down and waited some more before turning to Neville. “Do you know what she’s on about?”

Neville shook his head.

“He doesn’t care,” Luna said softly. “He’s too busy worshipping the varying degrees of confusion visible in your features and listening to you being rude about someone else. It’s highly entertaining, I must admit.”

“I may be a little in love with Luna right now if I wasn’t entirely smitten with her friend.” Draco’s droll delivery made Neville and Luna smile.

“So, Muggle places,” Neville said to avoid climbing onto Draco’s lap and kissing his lips blue.

Luna nodded. “Muggles aren’t likely to tell Lucius or Augusta if you’ve been bonking in common rooms. Good thing Harry used the Marauders Map when he and Ginny were looking for somewhere private during the Restoration Ball.”

“Do I want that last bit explained to me?” Draco asked Neville from the corner of his mouth.

“Best not.”

“Thought as much,” Draco muttered. “Muggle courting sounds safer and more reliable than Polyjuice, yes?”

Neville and Luna nodded.

“What if we could be neighbours in a magical part of London?” Draco made it sound like casual afterthought but Neville was beginning to know him better than that. “Ribena Arrowroot pays her trainees, doesn’t she Longbottom?”

“Not a lot.”

“Finances can be worked out later. Unless you want to continue living with…”

“Stop playing games and take us there.”

Draco smirked and offered them both an arm.

Dye-Urn Alley was filled with townhouses. The light brown brickwork, front gardens and awnings were identical on both sides of the street. “Inside and the back gardens can be as unique as you please but not the street facings. Makes apparition to the correct house difficult if visitors aren’t sure of the number,” Draco explained.

“If Ribena Arrowroot paid me to be a gigolo I couldn’t afford to live here.”

“Language like that doesn’t suit you Neville. Numbers 7-9 would be us: close to Arrowroot and Shoots, Diagon Alley, several taverns of varying reputation, the Muggle Underground, and St Mungo’s.”

Luna bounded up the stairs to Number 7 with Draco. Neville only followed him inside to tell him not to try so hard.

“Actually Longbottom, considering the catalogue of miseries my family and I have put you through, I’m probably still not trying hard enough.”

Neville stopped Draco walking away by dragging him by the arm, close enough to kiss. Luna said goodbye then apparated without waiting for a reply. Draco pulled away. Neville could tell he did it reluctantly.

“Mother recently inherited Number 9, 7 has been mine for years. My uncle named me as heir because his wife chose not to have children. They never actually lived here. It was a second address so the Ministry would have harmless premises to raid...”

“Who never actually lived here?” Neville had already guessed and hoped he was wrong. Draco’s avoidance proved him right.

“Mother and I stayed at number nine while the Aurors went through Malfoy Manor, both times the Dark Lord fell. She considered not going back this time.”

Draco suffered because of the Lestranges too. Neville let that knowledge erode his revulsion of standing in premises they’d owned. “When you say…?”

“Neither ever set foot in the place. Their youngest and therefore most disposable house-elf handled the purchase on their behalf and lived here on her own except for when Mother and I came to stay. Mother brought Topsy home to the Manor, although she still pops in and does a tidy round.” Draco looked anywhere but at Neville until he finished speaking. “I’ll be moving in to 9 and leasing out 7 regardless. Market value rent is currently less of an issue. I’d rather a tenant I know and can trust. That equals two people apart from my mother. Luna’s entertaining enough but I doubt we could stand being neighbours. You didn’t mind humping me at your gran’s so I don’t see how this would pose a problem.” His gaze was a challenge when their eyes met. Neville found him hardest to resist when he behaved like this, a mixture of pragmatic and silly while being completely honest.

“Shower pressure any good?” he asked and began to properly look around.

“Don’t know,” Draco said with a slight wobble to his voice. “Let’s find out.”

Neville pounced at him with a grin then chased him upstairs.

 

*~~~*

  
Water, wet and warm between them.

Skin so slippery, soaped up yet still getting sweaty from sex.

Neville watched sudsy water create rivulets that shifted to fit the curves of Draco’s spine as Neville fucked his arse. They had to turn their necks and tilt their faces away from the shower spray regularly in order to breathe air instead of water. Draco pressed both palms flat against the tiles so he could push back, pulling Neville deeper inside him. The drag of hot arse against cock was still a new sensation and Neville was in danger of coming too quickly. Draco clutched at Neville’s hand.

“Tug me so we come together. Make it splatter on the tiles.”

They puffed and panted, slipped and slid while slapping together, and then they came with grunts that were wonderfully amplified by bathroom acoustics. Neville hauled Draco’s dripping body closer and drank water from the dip of his neck.

“You should get a job in realty so we can fuck in strangers’ homes because I doubt anything can be hotter than this.”

Draco moaned in response then tilted his head back for a kiss. He stretched his arms up, extending his spine and leg muscles then relaxed into Neville’s embrace.

“I love you,” Neville said against Draco’s ear.

“So you’ll be my neighbour?” Draco asked. His voice was husky from sex and Neville wondered what that voice would sound like first thing in the morning.

“I’ll be anything you want,” Neville replied in a masculine rumble.

 

*~~~*

  
The Arrowroot and Shoots traineeship was fascinating. Ribena had received a Ministry contract to develop plants that could serve as home protection without accidentally strangling the residents or expected guests, and was currently working on Flutterby bushes with butterfly flowers that flew at intruders like Muggle-Ninja throwing stars as well as flapping their wings and looking pretty.

“Mad-Eye Moody dreamed up the idea when they were NEWT students at Hogwarts and completely shattered on dirigible plum brandy. Ribena reckons the Flutter Bye-bye will be a fitting tribute to his memory.” Neville was pleased when Draco found this equally amusing.

“They’re clearly both nutters! Although,” Draco sat on the couch in Number 7’s sitting room. “I must admit that I want one. Replace one of the Flutterbies at the front of my place and invite Weasley over to Number 9 by mistake, give it a proper test run.”

After two social evenings at Harry’s, Neville had come to accept that Draco and Ron would never get along. They weren’t going to bother trying and only Hermione bothered trying to force them. Ginny and Harry were convinced that they went out of their way to antagonise each other just to cheese Hermione off. Narcissa didn’t visit Draco as often as he’d feared she would, and rarely stayed long unless Draco asked her to dinner. He invited Neville to join them one night. The conversation was stilted. Neville didn’t know how affectionate he could be, or should be in front of his lover’s mother. Narcissa didn’t know what to talk about without causing contention. The deeply emotional connection between mother and son was always clear though. Neville was jealous. That important relationship had been taken from him before he was three years old. He chose not express his resentment. The physical contrasts between dark Bellatrix and fair Narcissa were not as striking as those of the heart. Neville understood why Harry held no grudges against the Malfoys. They weren’t archetypical Death Eaters.

“Mother didn’t expect this,” Draco later gestured to Neville’s presence in his bed by gently caressing Neville’s bare arm, “when she insisted McGonagall pair us off while repairing Hogwarts.” Draco’s grey eyes kept Neville’s attention on his words instead of his touch. “You persisted in your efforts to get us involved without once threatening or trying to force your way in. You were consistently polite to her house-elf, which extends to respect for her household by the old traditions. Mother considers that appropriate behaviour for a wizard and hoped you would provide a better role model than those I’d been surrounded by.”

“Does this bother her?” Neville asked gently, trailing his hand down Draco’s back and watching his physical response before kissing him softly.

“No,” Draco whispered then returned Neville’s kiss. “We surprised her and she’s instinctively disappointed by the impossibility of grandchildren but she thinks this is the wisest, most courageous decision I’ve ever made.”

“I agree with her entirely.” He rolled on top of Draco and expressed how much he loved him and why between careful kisses. Draco’s arms crossed over Neville’s neck and shoulder as he wrapped his slender legs around him. The love they made was deeply passionate and far more mature than the first time, which wasn’t so long ago.

It was the first time they spent an entire night and woke up together.

 

*~~~*

  
There were arguments, sometimes about trivial things but always with unpredictable results—like the one that began with Draco’s subscription to the Daily Prophet. Neville had stopped reading it when Dolores Umbridge taught at Hogwarts. “It’s front to back malicious garbage,” he insisted around a bagel.

“How else am I supposed to know what my friends are up to? Oh, beg pardon, **former** friends. They weren’t all junior Death Eaters you know.”

“Then why haven’t they kept in contact?”

“Because I’m **the** junior Death Eater, my family’s still under investigation, or Mother’s a traitor, all depending on their perspective. I only know that Blaise and Millicent’s plan to elope was foiled by her parents, thanks to that rag. His mother’s in Azkaban and the Ministry are re-investigating the suspicious deaths of her husbands after she hexed the Bulstrodes. Did I hear it from Blaise? No, I read it in Who’s Hating Who!” This was Draco’s nickname for the social pages of the Prophet. “He was one of my closest friends for nine years. Not that you or the people I’m forced to hang around because of you give a snitch.”

“ **Forced** to hang around? I ask you to come with me when I’m invited out to my friends’ because I want them to get to know you beyond your reputation. Won’t bother next time, it’s clearly well-earned.”

“Go back to your Gran’s house on the moral high ground, Longbottom.”

“And explain how I got evicted for giving my landlord a social life?”

“I could tell her how you pay your rent. Do you think she needs colour illustrations?”

“I pay my way!”

Draco laughed cruelly. “You couldn’t afford to kip on the nature strip.”

“At least someone’s willing to hire **me**.”

No wands were drawn yet things were changing around them. China and glassware scuttled into cupboards and locked itself away. The tea kettle became a black swan and flew up the chimney.

“Terrific! That was Grandmother Black’s. Just piss off Longbottom and leave me alone. Stop trying to fix me.”

Neville tried to apparate out but nothing happened. “What have you done?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why can’t I leave?”

“I’m certainly not keeping you here.”

Neville went to the door. The handle was gone. All the doorhandles were gone. Perhaps a window—they’d all been bricked over. Words had power. “Maybe we have to say that it’s over.”

“It’s over.” Draco said flatly. Nothing changed so Neville said it too. It didn’t work. “Perhaps we both have to mean it,” Draco suggested quietly. He couldn’t look Neville in the eye. Neville kissed him. Draco kissed back. Neville apologised for getting angry as he sat Draco on the kitchen table and stood between his legs to kiss him better. Draco apologised for inferring Neville was a prostitute-tenant. “You wouldn’t be living beside me if I hadn’t pressured you into it in the first place.”

“I’m sorry for never asking about your friends.”

Remorse volleyed back and forth in an extensive rally, continuing as Neville undressed and then moved inside his lover-neighbour. “I’m sorry” was replaced by “love you” long before they climaxed. Doors and windows remained sealed. Draco pointed his wand.

“Alohamora!”

They were both surprised when the door opened.

“Glad neither of us thought of that before we made up,” Neville admitted. Draco agreed.

 

*~~~*

  
They created an adjoining door disguised as a full-length mirror between the master bedrooms. An outline of a handprint appeared on their side of the mirror when the other was home and it was safe to come through. Family did not always wait for invitations, after all. After a great deal of practice they were able to fold back the dividing walls completely to make one large house and then split it into the original two as necessary.

Within a year Luna had begun joining Neville and Narcissa at Draco’s. “It’s nice to have a mum to talk to again, even if it is someone else’s,” Luna said after a particularly comfortable evening.

Neville couldn’t be sure whether Luna referred to her circumstances or his with this remark. He talked to his mother as often as possible although Alice Longbottom still couldn’t talk beyond humming. Mum smiled broadly when Neville told her he was almost living with someone who loved him. It made him sad because he could never be sure how much his mother understood, he hadn’t told Gran, and he might never be able to tell them who he was in love with without leading to further estrangement.

Draco lay beside him in Neville’s side of their shared townhouses. One pale hand stroked Neville’s freshly showered hair while the other rested over Neville’s heart. Neville covered the dormant hand with his as he described this sadness to Draco.

“If you choose to set me aside and find a partner who’ll make your parents happy…” Draco began firmly. Neville interrupted before he reached the ‘I will never forgive you’ part. Draco shushed him by heavily draping a leg over and between Neville’s then continued. “…I will understand and keep my misery at losing you to myself.”

Neville rubbed both hands over Draco’s shoulders and back, avoiding his recently fucked bum. “You’d let an archaic sense of familial duty come between us?”

“Big words for you, considering they’re not about plants.”

“Luna’s rewriting your great-aunt’s tragic romances and quotes them at me whenever she sees us or Remus and Sirius in one, which is almost every story.”

Draco angled his head away from Neville’s shoulder and sharpened his gaze without moving other limbs. “Beg pardon? **My** cousin married the werewolf, not Mother’s.”

Neville curled a finger behind Draco’s ear and caressed his temple with a thumb. He’d never told anyone this, not even Harry. He didn’t know how Luna knew. “I was there when Sirius Black was knocked into the death arch in the Department of Mysteries. If Remus hadn’t had to prevent Harry running through the veil—his voice and expression, I’ve never experienced agony like it.” He could tell by the upward tilt of Draco’s chin that he didn’t believe it. “Bellatrix performed the Cruciatus Curse on me that day. Let me tell you, that bloke pretending to be Moody, the Carrows and students in our year had nothing on her. It felt like hell but even when **she** did it, it was over quickly. That agony was in Remus’ eyes all the time. He suffered Sirius’ loss for the rest of his life. Remus loved his wife and son but he loved Sirius more.”

Draco stared at the wall above and behind Neville’s head.

“I know you meant to be kind Draco but…”

“Shut up,” Draco said softly.

Neville regretfully began to untangle their limbs. Draco snared them tighter together. Neville followed his lover’s example and they clung together as they slept.

 

*~~~*

  
For the next two years they continued to keep their relationship secret beyond a chosen few. Nights out were spent in Muggle haunts if not visiting Luna or Ginny and Harry. Lucius refused to accept that Draco had no interest in witches and voiced the suspicion that he was courting Luna Lovegood. The blood links between Lucius and Xenophilius were distant enough to make the match agreeable but their social status was too distant for his liking.

“He won’t listen. No matter how much Mother laughs,” Draco told Neville as they got ready for work. “I’m tempted to bring you and Luna along next time so he’ll have no choice.”

“I think this is your shirt,” Neville said when the buttons wouldn’t reach the buttonholes and took it off again.

“Don’t you pay attention to more than my arse?”

“Your cock’s rather fascinating.”

Draco flicked Neville’s bum with the shirt. “This is one I bought for your birthday. Light colours make me resemble an Inferius.”

“Why didn’t you tell me I’m getting fat?”

“Because you’re fit, my love, not fat. Replacing forty-eight Flutterby bushes with Flutter Bye-byes plus all that other pottering about you do has had some rather delicious side effects in the shoulder area. And if you **were** getting fat, I wouldn’t care.” Draco kissed him quickly then used his wand to enlarge the shirt. “That’ll do for now.”

“But,” Neville prompted.

“But what?” Draco asked with his ‘talking to Luna face’. Neville embraced him from behind and rested his chin in the curve of Draco’s shoulder. “That butt? We don’t have time Neville.”

Neville chortled. “But why won’t you take me and Luna to Malfoy Manor?” He needed to know they were still on the same track.

“Because I don’t want to spoil what we have,” Draco replied sternly. “Our relationship isn’t perfectly normal and I agree that it shouldn’t be kept in the dark like a Boggart. It’s wonderful being with you. Hopefully time is all that’s needed to set us completely free.”

“Your romanticism never ceases to amaze me.”

“Nor your increasing vocabulary, me.”

Neville smacked Draco on the bum. “Bully.”

“Target. Buy new shirts on the way home. Can’t have legendary Neville Longbottom looking like an overstuffed sausage, Weasley will think I’m bad for your morale.”

“Okay Dray.”

Draco’s unfamiliar expression had Neville worried.

“You call me that when you’re too sleepy or sexed up to bother with the second syllable.”

Neville stopped worrying. “You call me ‘Nel’ under the same circumstances.”

“Really?” Draco asked with genuine surprise.

Neville nodded as he smiled. “Only the way you moan it makes it sound sexy.”

“Nicknames now? We’re so domestic.” Draco followed this complaint with a grin. Neville kissed him firmly on the neck.

“What we have is wonderful. We need to protect it.”

 

*~~~*

  
Narcissa could not stand the bleak cold of English winter, craving sunshine and light since Voldemort’s invasion of Malfoy Manor. Three winters into Neville and Draco’s relationship Narcissa gave Lucius a choice: join his wife overseas or she would not be coming back to the marital home on return to England. He went. Draco stayed behind and invited Neville to spend Christmas with him at the Manor.

Living at Hogwarts for almost seven years made the Malfoy house and grounds no less impressive in Neville’s opinion. Draco explained the changes Narcissa made after Tom Riddle met his downfall, which ones Lucius argued against or undid, what happened where… “The original dining table was hundreds of years old, carved from a single tree by my ancestor as a betrothal gift for his bride. My grandfather Abraxas sat at the head with me on his knee and fed me from his plate until I was able to feed myself. Every Malfoy boy and a girl or two scratched their name somewhere into the wood then received a whipping for it—except me. Father had his cane out but Grandfather said the carving should be classed as tradition now and handed me a bag of sweets instead. I loved that table.”

Neville wondered why Draco’s voice was so hollow while recounting what seemed to be happy memories. He soon found out.

“Then Riddle killed a teacher on it and fed her to his snake. We had to watch. Destroying the family table was the only thing Mother and Father agreed on after Potter vanquished the Dark Lord. Everything that creature did was obscene. He defiled the world just by breathing.”

Neville was haunted more by the horror in his lover’s eyes and the angry despair in his posture than the events Draco described. “Was any room safe?”

“Mine,” Draco replied grimly. “But only when I was home. The night the Dark Lord arrived Mother taught me the same shielding spells the professors used to keep his followers out of Hogwarts. I forgot to seal the room once, **only** once. Fenrir Greyback made sure his Snatchers disarmed underage wizards before he got too close after that. The Dark Lord punished him as well. I let Death Eaters into the castle the year before and he may have further use for me. Otherwise…” Draco pushed both hands deeper into his pockets and shrugged. “Mother has been making apologetic overtures to her surviving sister since it all ended. I make excuses every time she tries to include me. The little Lupin creeps me out. Just the idea of it,” he admitted. Then he paused, waiting for Neville to be outraged or disgusted. “Well?” he prompted haughtily.

Neville refused to be provoked into an argument that wouldn’t resolve anything. “We can go home if you’d rather.” He slid his left arm into the triangle formed by Draco’s right and Draco opted to hold hands.

“I love you Longbottom.”

“I love you too in case you missed the subtle hints I’ve been dropping for forty-two months.”

“Forty-three, I first kissed you forty-three months ago. Never expected you’d kiss me back, especially not like that,” Draco admitted quietly.

“Like what?”

Draco proved his memory of that moment was identical to Neville’s. That series of kisses and those outside the front gate of Malfoy Manor after the Restoration Ball were classified Perfection on the Draco-Neville scale of incredible kisses. Neville added this one to the list. “Home?” he suggested hopefully, hormonally.

“I’d rather take you ice-skating on the pond, which is after all why I brought you out here. Sorry for all…”

Neville touched Draco’s nose with his. “Don’t be. Important and terrible things happened to you here. Sharing your life with me…” They kissed again. Ice-skating would have to wait since Draco thought Neville should see the ceiling in his childhood bedroom first.

 

*~~~*

  
They spent most of the poorly lit daytime hours goofing about on the frozen pond behind Malfoy Manor. Neville fell over, a lot. Draco helped him up with a smile every time. “Stop trying to impress me Longbottom. You did that years ago.”

Topsy surprised them by decorating the surrounding trees with coloured lights so they could skate at night, when the ice was firmest. All her life she’d hoped to serve a pureblood family and be a Valued House-elf. Living in the adjacent townhouses had been dreadfully lonely, her diligence not witnessed or acknowledged until Mistress Narcissa and the infant Master came to stay. For the first time, Topsy felt useful. She may have been duty-bound to serve the Lestranges, but it was the younger sister of Mistress Lestrange that Topsy became attached to. The young Master made Mistress Narcissa happy and proud. “Mistress hopes to receive the young Masters at home once Master Lucius is more amenable. Topsy must make the young Masters feel welcome, as Mistress would.”

Neville and Draco thanked her and complimented her efforts.

“Don’t tell Potter,” Draco confided, “but I always preferred Topsy to Dobby. He was bonkers.”

“Best not mention that around Hermione either. Remember S.P.E.W.?” Neville told Draco about Hermione’s obsession with house-elf liberation. “She created mess in the common room and hid knitted things under it in an attempt to set them free.”

“Topsy’d top herself if someone gave her clothes. Winky was like that, Crouch’s house-elf. Perhaps it’s a gender thing. Then again, look at Kreacher. He was battier than Dobby until Potter...”

They started slowly this time with Draco skating backwards in front of Neville as they discussed house-elves. Their forearms overlapped and they grasped each other’s elbows.

“Don’t look at your feet,” Draco said. “Look at me.”

The coloured light moving over Draco’s white hair and pale face was hypnotic. Looking at him was never difficult. “Why are you so determined to make me do things like this—dance, skate?” Neville asked.

“Because these things interest me and I enjoy them more when I can do them with you. Isn’t that why you force me to accompany you to Potter’s?” Neville’s left foot skittered too far to the left and his eyes left Draco’s face. “Ah-ah-ah, don’t look down. Feel where you’re going. I’ll take care of your balance for now.” Their eyes met again. Draco looked away this time. “I can’t believe you trust me, with all you know.”

“How long do we have to be together before you understand why?” Neville stumbled again. Draco’s physical support didn’t waver. Neville didn’t fall. They continued skating. “Your reaction to Narcissa’s voice calling out over the roar of war told me we fought for the same reason. I’d run to my Mum the moment she spoke my name and hex anyone who got in the way, any day. Mummy’s Boys brought about Voldemort’s downfall. Ron destroyed one Horcrux and gathered Basilisk fangs to destroy more. I got one. Harry did the most of course but one word from you would have ensured all three of us failed. After years of jinxing me for no reason the staff changes at Hogwarts gave you free rein. Your friends used us for target practice every chance they got.” Draco had stopped skating. Neville had to stop or they’d tumble onto the ice. “You didn’t.”

“So basically, we began falling in love during our final year of school and needed the Minister of Magic’s interference to bring us together?”

“Yeah,” Neville said. “No,” he corrected. “Hogwarts interfered. The school already knew. Assistance will always be given by Hogwarts to those who need it.”

Draco moved his hands to Neville’s hips as they kissed. Then he began to move backwards again without warning. Neville had to skate forward at the same pace if he wanted more.

They became nocturnal creatures, sleeping in Draco’s room during the daylight hours and returning to the pond each night. Draco didn’t teach Neville anything fancy, just enough so they could race each other and dance slowly together across the ice. They returned to their united house at Dye-Urn Alley once their work vacations were over.

 

*~~~*

  
Gran brought Neville to visit his parents in St Mungo’s on his birthday every year since Frank and Alice Longbottom were committed. He wanted to spend this birthday with them, alone. Augusta did not like breaking with tradition. She worried that they would not recognise their son without her there to remind them. Neville asked if she was ever entirely sure that her prompting helped. Then Gran worried that her son Frank might think she was dead if he did recognise Neville and she wasn’t there.

“I’ve been there without you several times since I left Hogwarts. Dad hasn’t died of grief yet.”

“Fine. But if Frank becomes inconsolable because he thinks I’m dead…”

“Then I’ll send a Patronus to your house and you can hit me over the head with your handbag when you get to St M’s.”

“Don’t tempt me Neville.” But she let him go alone.

Mum looked so old. Dad looked worse, older than Gran. Mum started humming the moment she saw Neville. When he was small he thought it was a special pattern she hummed, just for him. Now he was certain it wasn’t. They were never getting better. Dad would probably die soon and he’d never know how proud Neville was to be the son of famously brave Aurors. Or that most of the time he’d rather be the son of people so ordinary that the half-blood who dubbed himself Lord Voldemort never heard of them. Neville told his parents all of this. Then he did what he’d wanted to do from his first visit to their private ward and knelt on the floor beside his mother’s chair with his head in her lap and cried. Gran had terrified this need out of him, or so they both thought, and he’d never dared do it before but he was convinced his father would die before the season changed. The Healers said all along that the Longbottoms were so dependent on each other that when one slipped beyond the veil, the other would follow soon after. He had to tell them everything now.

Alice ran her fingers through his hair and her humming changed. “My boy,” she said in a soothing hush. “Mummy’s here.” Neville cried harder and hugged her so tightly his arms hurt. He couldn’t remember her voice from before, he’d been so young. Gran and the Healers back then believed his outpouring of juvenile grief would only confuse his parents, make their condition worse, and they’d been wrong! He’d kept it inside all these years, for nothing.

Frank stared blankly at his slippers and then picked his nose. Neville couldn’t help it, he laughed. Dad guiltily wiped the bogies on the windowsill. Neville told his parents how much he loved them, how miserable he’d been without them, how he’d been terrified of everything for most of his life, all from the comfort of his mother’s lap. Her fingers were still wandering through his hair when he took a deep breath, then another, and told them about the man in his life.

“…We’re so in love Mum, it’s ridiculous. Dray’s wonderful. I can’t tell Gran, she hates him."

“You’re a clever boy to hide.”

“Always a good boy,” Frank said softly. Neville sniffed back bogies of his own as he stared at his father. Frank still gaped at his slippers as he reached for his wife’s hand. The rest of him stayed still. Alice stopped humming and stroking her son’s hair as her fingers closed around Frank’s. Neville took shallow breaths as he waited but they said nothing more. He kissed his mother’s cheek as he stood. Since he was breaking Gran’s rules, he hugged his father too. Neville told them he loved them again and then sat in the visitor’s chair provided. He watched for hours.

Late evening supper was brought for the patients of the Fourth Ward. “Still here, dear?” an apprentice Healer asked with surprise. “Visiting hours…”

“I know when ruddy visiting hours are,” Neville said sharply then apologised. “They spoke.”

“Their records say these patients have spoken three words between them in twenty years – boy, good, hide. None while they were awake. They’re holding hands, which they do regularly. It’s so sweet.”

Neville was a war veteran, Draco too, and saw things differently now. He suspected his parents hid from the worst of whatever remained in their minds by holding hands. “You better wash Dad’s hands before he eats. I caught him picking his nose.” Neville tapped his wand against the folder at the end of Mum’s bed and his contact addresses became twice the size. “If they say **anything** write it down and send it to me by owl, immediately.”

Draco was waiting in the absolute centre of the joined foyers. Probably so he could see Neville come home through either door, not sleep in the armchair as he was doing before the sound of Neville opening a door startled him. “Where’ve you been?! We were going to go out!” His anger stopped abruptly. “They’re not…?”

“Not this time,” Neville replied hoarsely. “It won’t be long though.” He let Draco hug him and offer verbal sympathy. “Do you mind if we separate the bedrooms tonight? I love you, nothing’s changed that, I swear. I just need time alone.”

“My hand will be on the mirror.”

Neville gave him a grateful kiss and went upstairs. He didn’t sleep much. Before dawn he stepped through the mirror, left unlocked as Draco promised, and saturated his lover with hopeless tears. He couldn’t speak and Draco didn’t ask. Slender arms were strong around Neville’s shaking shoulders. When Neville was too exhausted to cry anymore Draco kissed his messy face and said “I love you.”

“I love you,” Neville mumbled back. “I want you to meet them.” He expected Draco to refuse. He hadn’t met the Lupin baby yet, although Teddy was now four years old, most definitely not a werewolf and spent more time at Harry’s than they did.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Draco assured him. “But I’ll go as someone else the first time, just in case.”

Neville’s grateful embrace must have squashed him but Draco didn’t fidget or complain.

 

*~~~*

  
“There’s enough Polyjuice in that flask to last the entire day, so don’t be stingy with your dosage,” Hermione insisted as she handed it to Draco. If he got caught drinking it he’d be taken to Azkaban, so Neville was not prepared to let him brew it as well.

“You’re not making him into a woman are you?” Neville asked before Draco twisted the lid open. “I’ve told them all along that he’s male.”

“No. Although I brought along a female alternative just in case,” said Hermione.

“Typically clever Granger,” Draco complimented her without sarcasm.

“Will you please start calling me Hermione?”

“No. That will ruin the fun of continuing to call you ‘Granger’ after you’ve become a Weasley.”

“You are so much like Ron.” Hermione knew he’d take that as an insult.

“Except incredibly sexy and slightly more of a poof. Although I won’t be as sexy once I drink this. Might I enquire as to who this is?”

“Does it matter?” The question was a challenge. Hermione and Neville waited for a disparaging remark about Muggles or a juvenile tantrum, expecting either to be followed by Draco’s refusal to drink the potion. Draco held Hermione’s eye as he upended the flask and gulped at its contents.

“Tastes like sausages with tomato chutney, whoever it is.” His hair began to darken and curl. He became an inch taller and his irises turned black. “So darling, who am I?” The tall, dark and handsome stranger asked Neville.

“What? Oh no. I shouldn’t have asked Kreacher to find a pureblood wizard’s hair. We’ve turned you into Regulus Black.”

The stranger pulled up his left sleeve. “Why is that there? He’s dead. They’re both dead!” The stranger’s eyes were wide with panic but Neville recognised the reflexive hysteria as 100% Draco. “Get that thing off me Granger!” Draco’s wand was immediately in Hermione’s face but he lowered it before either moved to disarm him. The three of them breathed deeply and out of rhythm until he spoke again. “Take it away, please.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“TRY!”

“Just, keep your sleeves down, and…”

Neville stood between them with his back against Draco’s chest. “You’re both good at potions. Is there some way to reverse the change, apart from breaking into the Lestrange vault at Gringotts?”

“This would be so much easier if I was a Metamorphmagus. Why couldn’t Mother carry the gene instead of Andromeda?”

“Why didn’t you just use hair dye?” Hermione snapped. “Because it’s a Muggle invention, I suppose!”

“We tried it,” Neville replied but Draco took over.

“The only colour that stays in my hair is black. Who do you think I look like with my own face and black hair, hey Granger? I look more like Bellatrix than Andromeda does. Without, you know,” he made a circular motion over his chest, “those.”

Hermione giggled behind a hand. “Draco, I’m so sorry. Honestly I am.” She flipped her hand over and held out the other to signify that she was trying to stop laughing. “It’s wonderful that you’re doing this for Neville. The whole point of asking Kreacher for help was to avoid offending you. The only purebloods I know are Weasleys, Neville, and the Lovegoods.”

“Xeno Lovegood resembles your father too closely to make him a suitable candidate for hair donation.”

“It’s the Dark Mark that’s the problem,” Draco assured them.

“But I don’t see how,” Hermione began. “The seven Harrys, we all developed a scar. Crouch took on all of Moody’s spell damage. The mark is cursed into your skin? Oh that’s dreadful!”

“I’m glad you appreciate that Hermione.” Draco’s use of her first name caused a typical feminine reaction. “I’m still calling you Granger in front of Weasley.”

Hermione’s smile insisted that was fine. “I’ll apparate home, fill another flask from what’s left in the cauldron—it doesn’t have hair in it yet, you see—and bring it back.”

The wizards nodded and she popped out. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Draco asked accusingly. “I knew it, you prefer dark and brooding.”

“Never,” Neville assured him. “We’ve been a couple for years. You and Hermione have put up with each other’s presence for my benefit. But today you finally met each other.”

“I hate it when you get all soppy.”

“No you don’t.”

“Shut up.” They smiled and Neville leaned in for a kiss. Draco leaned away. “No kissing me when I’m someone else.”

“You could never be mistaken for anyone else,” Neville insisted. They were still kissing when Hermione returned.

“That’s a bit—kinky. I really should have apparated outside and knocked. Um, here.” Hermione thrust the flask into Neville’s hand and left immediately.

“I wish I had friends like that to introduce you to. I hate how only one person in my life knows how much I love you. Besides you. And a house-elf.” Draco began to lose his Regulus Blackness as the emotional darkness returned.

“Hermione knows now. Until then, only Luna understood the way we do.”

“I think,” Draco paused, “there’s something I need to do before meeting the parents of the man I love.”

“Don’t ask me why Hermione always has a stash of Polyjuice handy.”

“Not that, something serious.” Draco was still wrestling with his epiphany. Neville didn’t interrupt again. “I should probably meet my family first.”

Neville agreed. “Want me to come too?”

“Not the first time, in case it’s the only time.” Then he mumbled. “What if Lupin Baby comes near me and I lose it?”

“Teddy isn’t a baby, or a werewolf.”

“It’s **Lupin Baby**.”

“Tosser.”

“Tom Riddle ordered my family to kill it. Bellatrix said hooray and I silently agreed.”

That revelation was shockingly vile. “You’re not thinking of…?”

“No! I couldn’t kill a dying old man for Slytherin’s sake! Or for my family’s sake. Did you do that werewolf essay for Professor Snape in Third Year?”

“Not entirely. That chapter gave me nightmares and Snape gave me a T.”

“The conversion and transformation process is excruciating. Imagine enduring the Cruciatus curse twice a month, every month. Then imagine a baby trying to cope with that.”

“So you’re not entirely heartless then?”

“Knock down that pedestal before you put me on it. It’s still Lupin Baby. I’d better go before I bottle it completely.” He left then and there, without saying goodbye. Neville sat like a pillock for a moment and then decided to visit his parents anyway.

 

*~~~*

  
“Well that was dreadful,” Draco said when he got home later than Neville. “The child and I were equally terrified of each other. Andromeda said Potter mentioned I was shagging one of his friends. I said we do a lot more than shag and she told me to piss off. I shared a gesture normally reserved for Weasley.” He demonstrated which one. “Lupin Baby copied it. I laughed because it came as a surprise, so he did it again with the cheekiest smile. Andromeda chased me out of the house for being a bad influence, with her wand aimed at your favourite bits.” Draco slumped into an armchair. “How was your day?”

“A less adventurous return to typical visits, I’m afraid.”

“Sorry love.” Draco patted his lap and Neville sat. “I promise not to corrupt your Mum like I did Lupin Baby.”

“Teddy.”

“He’ll always be Lupin Baby to some degree.”

Just as Draco would always be Malfoy.

 

*~~~*

  
Ginny, Draco and Neville sat in Grimmauld Place teaching Harry and Hermione to play magical card game Hunt the Hippogriff. Ron was working late with his brothers George and Percy at Weasley Wizard’s Wheezes. Teddy Lupin snored on a lounge with his face squashed against a seat cushion and his bum in the air.

“Proof that you’re related, right there,” Neville said to Draco. His lover’s face flushed brightly as he kicked Neville under the table. Harry pretended not to notice by scratching the dint in the bridge of his nose caused by his glasses and asking Ginny what effect his fourteen of crossbows would have against Hermione’s six of centaurs.

“It’ll piss them off and make them charge. Only play crossbows higher than seven when the Hippogriff’s in flight. Put your troll down for now, see what Draco does with that.”

“Probably this,” Harry said then performed the gesture his godson learned from Draco.

“Piss off Potter. Pass,” said Draco.

“You made quite an impression the other day. Teddy’s been telling everyone to piss off since,” Ginny said while helping Harry sort through his cards again.

“Andromeda said that, not me. No Granger, keep that one for later. Because you’ve got this and this,” Draco raised two of Hermione’s cards slightly higher than the others in her hand, “you can play them together. Sorry love,” he said to Neville, “but she won’t learn otherwise.”

“Stop that Malfoy. You being polite to them both in one sentence does my head in,” Harry complained.

“You don’t want to be nearby when we fight then, Potter. I ended up in Zimbabwe once because his upstairs loo became a portkey.”

Neville added that it wasn’t on purpose. “It could just as easily have been me transported to Africa.”

“What was that fight about?” Hermione asked although she dreaded the possible answers.

They couldn’t remember. It was during their first year as a couple, before they learned how to keep magic out of their arguments. They were equally guilty of the occasional slip and temper flare up. No lasting harm had been done to date. Neville couldn’t foresee any argument big enough to break them up. He felt Draco’s eyes upon him and Neville was struck by the stern adoration in that gaze. The love between them wasn’t fluffy duck and hopping bunny love. It was turbulent and resilient. Eternal…

“That’s how Ginny looks at me,” Harry’s uneasy whisper to Hermione made them self-conscious and they became aware that Harry, Ginny and Hermione were staring at Draco.

“Then perhaps you should do something about it,” Hermione replied in a normal volume.

“Anyone with the good taste to worship Neville and appreciate Luna cannot be a dastardly Death Eater,” Ginny declared. “He’s won me over.”

“Not me.” Harry repeated the gesture from earlier with a graceless grin.

Draco laughed.

It was perfect. Neville wondered what kind of something he should do about it.

 

*~~~*

  
So warm, so comfortable, so beautiful.

His left forearm was close enough to Draco’s face to be brushed by nose-tip and lips. “Uh, yes, uh,” the panted breaths made Neville press closer, deeper. His chest weighed down on Draco’s back. Draco’s arm crushed Neville’s against his face as he lifted his bum higher. “Fuck me, mm, uh, so, uh, so beautiful.”

“You are, Dray, gorgeous.” Neville rested his head against Draco’s, temple to temple and cheek to cheek. “Love everything about you.” He shifted their legs slightly and pushed, long, hard, and slow, twisting his hips with each movement. His other hand slid underneath so Draco could fuck it. Cum coated his fingers and left his cock almost simultaneously. “Oh-whoah, yes,” they said together. Then they went back to sleep.

 

*~~~*

  
They slowly walked upstairs to the fourth floor of St Mungo’s without disguises of any kind. Neville began to provide an out. Draco nodded before he got further than ‘If…’ and continued up the stairs. Neville touched Draco’s bum since it was so conveniently positioned and Draco smiled over his shoulder. Some of their apprehension melted away.

His parents remained unresponsive for the entire visit. Mum didn’t hum. It had happened before so Neville was used to it, almost. Draco sat silently beside him. Neville gave up and reluctantly kissed Mum goodbye before muttering a general apology. “It was stupid to hope for anything different.”

“No it wasn’t.” Draco put an arm around Neville’s waist as he opened the flowery curtain that granted the Longbottom’s some privacy. “I’m sorry it didn’t go to plan.” He kissed Neville near his ear.

Mum began to hum her usual pattern as they walked away. Neville stopped mid-stride. Was there any point though? They turned to see Frank reach for Alice’s hand. The humming stopped again as their fingers folded together.

“We can try again another day,” Draco assured him.

“You don’t have to go through this again.”

“I was no help and you know it, sat there like a lump with no idea what to say.”

“Like me on most days.”

“No wonder you were so timid and miserable when we met. I’m sorry this happened to you, and that I made jokes about it.” Draco directed his last comment to Neville’s parents and not because Alice had been staring at him. Perhaps this wasn’t a complete waste after all.

 

*~~~*

  
The book and cup of tea vanished from Neville’s hands and Draco climbed onto his lap, kissing him before he could say a word. He wore shirt, socks and nothing else. Neville’s hands happily travelled over and between Draco’s bare thighs. Draco sighed through a smile and undid Neville’s jeans. Neville lifted his hips enough for Draco to push both layers of clothing over his bum without making him fall off. Their tongues tangoed then their stiffening cocks touched. Draco held them together and stroked with one hand. The other gripped the back of Neville’s neck. Neville slid a hand beneath Draco so his fingertips could tease the underside of Draco’s balls and his sensitive ridge. His lover shivered and sagged against him, every muscle in his body going limp except his dick.

“Evil,” Draco huffed, “wanted to fuck your face first.”

Neville reclined the armchair they were in and grinned when Draco fell onto him. He watched the lines of Draco’s arms, chin and throat as he stretched across to grip the bookshelf behind the chair and shuffled forward on his knees. He looked down at Neville with one eyebrow cocked. Neville opened his mouth and took him in.

The shift in Draco’s features as he began rocking his hips made it impossible for Neville to close his eyes. He sucked gently so Draco could be in control for the moment. A startled yelp and footsteps fleeing their front door proved that the Flutter Bye-bye bushes were activated, ensuring they wouldn’t be interrupted. Draco’s rhythm never faltered. Neville put a hand between his lover’s legs again to roll Draco’s balls against his chin. Stuttered sounds of satisfaction were music to his ears. He snuck a finger up Draco’s bum.

“Oh-ah fuck.”

Neville tilted his head back as Draco pulled out and shuffled back to Neville’s lap. He took their preferred lube from his shirt pocket and handed it to Neville. Saying Draco’s name a certain way caused certain muscles to relax, which they’d discovered by accident several months ago, and Neville’s slicked up dick slid right in without requiring a preparatory finger-fest. Draco clutched the back of the armchair either side of Neville’s head, pushing and pulling to make every bounce a big one until he couldn’t keep up the pace. Slapping, cupping sounds of skin on skin provided counterpoint percussion to their vocalisations as Neville thrust into him as hard as he could. They gasped and came, then kissed frantically while everything else calmed down.

“That’s lunch break over. Better get back to work.”

“Do you have to hurry away?” Neville asked with regret. “There’s something we need to talk about.”

“You know I can’t retain verbal information delivered immediately before, during or after sex.”

“It’s important.”

“Then we’ll go to bed early so we can talk. Remind me when I get home or I’ll forget.”

“De-activate my Flutter Bye-byes on your way out please. Gran’s coming over to this side for afternoon tea before we head to St Mungo’s.”

“Your father?” Draco asked with genuine concern.

“He’s slipping and Gran’s not handling it as well as she’d like.”

“Would you rather I stay behind from work?”

Neville shook his head. It took a lot of persistence on Draco’s part to gain an apprenticeship with Ollivander. “It isn’t Dad that we need to discuss.”

“Alright, but I’m willing to face the vulture hat if you need me.”

“Thank you. Sincerely love you.”

“You too,” Draco replied. That’s what they needed to talk about.

 

*~~~*

  
He didn’t want to discuss his ailing father, not yet. His thoughts and eyes wanted to focus on this wonderful man in his bed. His fingers gently sought the pulse point of Draco’s throat as Draco waited for him to begin.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while. Since the card evening at Harry’s when Lupin Baby was there.”

Draco smiled at Neville’s use of this epithet.

“We’ve known each other… I know where I want our relationship to go, and believe you see us heading in that same direction. We can either wait until we’re comfortable to remove some of the restraints, or move ahead and hope our families will accept us.” He savoured Draco’s expression. It made him trip on his words.

“Say it,” Draco prompted softly.

“I want to be bound to you. In secret for now if it has to be that way,” Neville replied just as softly.

“Yes.” Draco kissed him briefly. “Yes, except, the Ministry raised the binding age to twenty-five. Until then couples who want to be legally joined by Unbreakable Vow need the endorsement of at least one family member from each side.”

“When did that happen?”

“It was the first decree passed when Shacklebolt became Minister for Magic, to prevent young people caught up in post-war romances rushing into permanent marriages and dying before five years passed because of broken vows.”

“How did you know?”

“Granger came across the information and felt the need to share.”

“Three years seems a long time to wait now we’ve made the decision.” Neville let his hand slide from Draco’s neck as he rolled onto his back. Draco snuggled against him and caressed his face with reassuring strokes.

“Yes.”

They fell asleep cuddled together, lost in individual thoughts.

 

*~~~*

  
Neville waited for Draco before opening the Muggle post from Harry and Ginny because the envelope was addressed to them both at 7—9 Dye-Urn Alley. Draco sat beside him so they could open it together. It was silly to be excited over something as simple as a palm-sized envelope.

“Our first formal couple invitation,” Neville said as he passed the engagement notice to Draco. “I’m definitely going,” he added hopefully.

“It’s going to be full of Weasleys, and the most entertaining one’s dead.” Draco’s callous comment failed to mask his apprehension. Neville knew it by the way he sat, and how he stared at the inscription on the front of the card without opening it.

 

“I’ll apologise in advance for any offense you’ll cause,” Neville assured him.

Draco nudged Neville with an elbow and smirked. “Can I keep this on my side?” he asked.

“What will you give me for it?”

“Fantastic blow job.”

“You gave me one yesterday.”

“Under the table while you study.”

“Is that the best you can do?”

“We spent this morning doing it against that massive vibrator Potter said Muggles wash their clothes in, while bound together by our old school ties. It’s your turn to think of something.”

Neville grabbed Draco by the waist and hauled him onto his lap, nestling his face against Draco’s neck. “Say you love me and you can keep the invitation on your side.”

“Don’t make me say it Longbottom,” Draco threatened.

“Then I’ll be taking that…”

Draco stretched his arm out at an angle so Neville couldn’t reach it and kissed him deeply. “You love me,” he said solemnly. Neville played along.

“You love me too.”

Draco read the inside of the invitation as Neville made him bounce about on his lap by jouncing both ankles. “What do they mean by ‘80s roller-disco theme’?”

Neville shrugged.

 

*~~~*

  
They were late to the Muggle venue because Ribena Arrowroot developed a sudden allergy to one species of security plant and Neville had to take charge of the new trainees and then lock up. There was loud music, multi-coloured lights reflected off everything, and everyone wore brighter, louder clothing with wheels on their shoes. Neville and Draco stared then tightened an arm about their lover’s waist for security.

So this was 80s roller disco.

“Glad we missed most of it.” Draco had to repeat himself over the Muggle music, which Neville had to agree was rather terrible.

“Should we try to blend in?” Neville asked.

“How?” Draco had a point. Without conferring beforehand they’d dressed in black jeans with similar styled shirts in different shades of the same colour. They couldn’t look more ‘couple’ if Lavender Brown had dressed them. The building seemed full of witches and wizards trying to dress like Muggles by wearing shiny furniture coverings. For once, Neville had to search the crowd to spot Luna and Xenophilius Lovegood.

“Dance with me,” Neville suggested into Draco’s ear.

“Is that what they’re doing?”

Draco had looked ready to go home the moment they arrived, so Neville was surprised when he clasped Neville’s hands over his navel and led him into the crowd. Although aware this was a Muggle location, both wizards brought their wands. Draco subtly aimed his at their feet and Neville nearly toppled over him as their shoes became wheeled skates. Draco was wobbly too as he adjusted to the unfamiliar footwear, frowning irritably in response to Neville’s chuckles. Neville grinned. His less than perfect dance moves were guaranteed to make Draco laugh at some stage. It didn’t take long. Draco was happy to be here, surrounded by people he previously despised. It was clear in his face and body language. His eyes were as bright as the swirling sparkles of light reflected off a gigantic mirror-ball. Neville rolled closer to him and caught him in an embrace so they could dance and kiss. Draco hesitated before responding with such enthusiasm it felt as though this was their engagement party.

They were skate-dancing and kissing passionately in the presence of witches and wizards outside their intimate social group. There were no astonished gasps or angry shrieks. They were free. They smiled broadly and were about to kiss again when Ginny glomped them.

“You came!” Her outfit looked like a Luna Lovegood original, from the bright swirls of colour on the short, ruffled skirt to the glittery pompoms dangling from her ears. Ginny squished Neville’s cheek against hers and kissed his face while he tried to offer congratulations.

“Don’t you dare think of touching me Weasley-Potter!” Draco’s exclamation earned him an immediate and enormously evil smirk with matching hug. “Ugh, Neville, get it off me.” His eyes expressed pure amusement above sneering lips as Neville hauled Ginny off him. He frowned at the simple black-line drawing of a face peeping over a graffitied wall on Ginny’s white singlet-top. “Why on earth are you wearing clothes that say ‘Fido Dildo’?”

Neville looked closely at the black words. Ginny laughed. “That’s what I thought it said when Harry first gave this to me. You should have seen his face. It’s Fido Dido pulling a Foo, apparently.”

“Sounds like something Sirius and Remus would get caught doing,” Neville said. Draco’s laughter snorted out through his nose and sounded rather painful.

Ginny gestured as though these were perfect reactions to the static cartoon figure. “I know, right? Hermione and Harry gave a combined lecture on innocent icons in Muggle culture but I still fail to see the significance of Fido Dido or his foo.”

“How is he pulling it while both his hands are holding the wall? Or are they someone else’s hands?” Draco asked and Neville’s laugh hooted loudly, attracting nearby attention. Draco’s arm on his waist didn’t flinch. Neville rewarded him with a smile which was openly returned.

“We thought you two might feel more comfortable in a Muggle setting,” Ginny grimaced at an incredibly fat man and equally skinny woman almost cowering in a corner, “although it didn’t work for them.”

“Who’re they?” Neville asked.

“Harry’s relatives,” Ginny replied and pointed to a blond Muggle Neville’s age. “His cousin Dudley’s dancing with Luna.”

“Staring at Luna in confusion, more like. But that’s typical behaviour around Lovegoods.”

Ginny didn’t berate Draco. He genuinely liked Luna’s blunt honesty, odd though most of her pronouncements were. Ginny counted him among her Mummy’s Boy Heroes of Hogwarts along with Harry and Neville. The three had different degrees of contact with their mothers—Lily Potter died when they were all a year old, Alice Longbottom was driven insane shortly after, and Narcissa Malfoy remained overly protective—yet all three women defied Voldemort to shield her only son, and each son would trample everything in their path to get to his mother. It was another reason Ginny thought Draco and Neville made a terrific couple. She hugged them both at once. “It’s good to see you acting all couple-y in public,” she said then skated off in search of her fiancé, who had a habit of crashing into tables or other people when he needed to stop rolling.

Neville turned Draco to face him again and told him how much he loved him with his eyes. Draco kissed him, such a long and passionate kiss that they were no longer dancing, simply making out while standing. Neville directed him to an empty patch of wall so they could continue snogging without obstructing the dedicated skaters. Draco pinned him against the wall, which was fine by Neville. This way he could squeeze Draco’s bum without grazing his knuckles on the deceptively rough surface. He was wondering whether to suggest apparating home for a quickie then coming back when he heard Ron’s voice nearby.

“Are they still going? How long’s it been now?”

“Coming up to four years,” Hermione replied.

“Blimey.”

“Always the tone of surprise,” Hermione teased.

“Come on Hermione. You’d think they’d have killed each other or something by now.”

“They do tend to fight with rather dramatic consequences.” Hermione told Ron about the toilet to Zimbabwe. Ron’s lingering concern for Neville’s safety in this relationship was evident in his lack of laughter. “It isn’t deliberate Ron,” Hermione hastened to assure him. “Their magic manifests independently when they get overly passionate.”

“Don’t say stuff like that Hermione. The sure-fire way to ruin any perfect day is to get me thinking about them having sex.”

Neville knew Draco was listening too because he suddenly chuckled through their joined mouths and twisted one leg around Neville’s. Neville pulled his hips closer with one arm while his other hand tilted Draco’s head back by the hair so Neville could suck at his throat.

“Ruddy hell, now it looks like they’re doing it. Save me Hermione.”

“Home?” Draco suggested as Hermione laughed. Neville nodded. “One, two…” Draco took them home on three. They both fell over because they’d forgotten to remove the wheels from the soles of their shoes. “Ah-haow, my arse!” Neville recognised mischief in Draco’s eyes. He hadn’t hurt himself that badly when they landed. “We’ll have to try something different.”

Neville hadn’t been this excitedly nervous since the second time they’d had sex, which they’d been more anxious about than the first. Draco was cautious and attentive. Neville knew that he could say yes or no at any time without causing offence or creating an argument. Still, he apologised when his eager yeses suddenly became a no.

“It just doesn’t feel... I mean, did it feel right and good to you when we first…?”

“Yes it did.”

“Oh.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you Neville.” Draco kissed him and slotted them together in a familiar way. “Nothing at all.”

Neville doubled his usual effort to ensure Draco enjoyed himself and earned a softly voiced scolding. “You don’t need to impress me, remember. The point of switching was to give you the same pleasure you give me. This, what we already share, is brilliant.”

Neville stopped thinking about it and let instinct take over. They enjoyed themselves, came, made themselves presentable with mutual smiles and returned to the party.

Harry’s aunt was laughing when they arrived. “I’ve never heard Petunia laugh in my life.” Harry was bemused. So was his cousin Dudley, sitting beside him. Neville took the only empty seat at the table and Draco sat on his lap.

“George got to her,” Ron said in apology.

“Wish George had ended up on our doorstep instead of you,” Dudley told Harry. Draco liked him immediately.

“Thanks Big D,” Harry replied drily and introduced the greatest antagonists of his youth.

“Call me Little D, Potter, and I’ll transfigure your head into a teapot.”

Dudley liked Draco right away, although he was warily frightened of him. Muggle and Death Eater poster child struck up a conversation based on the joys of Potter-baiting. Harry and Ron stared in disbelief then muttered to each other and went in search of different company. Neville didn’t care, because Draco chose to remain seated on his lap and talk to a Muggle they’d never met before rather than move to an empty chair.

Dean Thomas was taking photographs of guests to make into an album for the engaged couple. “I’ve got an old instant camera too, so people can take pictures home.” Dean addressed his remarks to Neville. His eyes refused to acknowledge the presence of Draco Malfoy, boisterously telling Dudley Dursley about the time he broke Harry’s nose and left him on the Hogwarts Express.

“Dray?” Neville poked the squishy bit above a hip to get Draco’s attention then explained Dean’s mission.

“Can we have one to take home?” Draco asked Neville.

“Do you want one each?” Dean asked cautiously.

“We only need one,” Neville replied bravely. Draco smirked as he turned slightly on Neville’s lap and draped an arm across his shoulders. Neville put his arms around Draco’s waist and squashed their cheeks together as they beamed at the camera. Then Draco kissed him—in front of Dean! The camera flashed again.

“Can we take that one?” Draco asked.

“That wasn’t me.” Dean handed the small square he was shaking to Neville. “These old Polaroids are too slow for sequential shots.”

Draco and Neville watched their smiling features become clearer on the photo Dean took. They were both disappointed that the reproduced figures didn’t move.

“You’ll have to wait until the album’s put together to get a copy of any moving shots. Did you want one?”

“If your Muggle-born brain can handle us kissing again,” Draco replied snidely. Neville scolded him quietly. “You saw his face.” Draco wielded that acid tone as reflexively as he rode a broom.

“He didn’t know.”

“I didn’t, honestly. Um, how long…?” Dean asked, trying to make up for his earlier reaction.

Draco checked with Neville through their eyes. Neville gave Draco’s waist a subtle squeeze for extra confirmation. Draco nodded.

“We’ve been living together for three years,” Neville informed Dean.

“So how come no-one said…? Oh.” Dean raised his camera, the couple kissed for another photograph, and he moved on to another table.

“Aren’t poofters allowed with your lot?” Dudley asked.

Draco and Neville briefly explained the generations of conflict between their families. Dudley said it sounded like something he’d seen on telly. “Only there’d been a girl in that, not two of you lot with wands and… I think I’m ready to go home now.” He did look a tad green. Growing up with a wizard for a cousin must have been confusing enough.

Draco raised his glass in farewell. “See you at Potter’s wedding, Big D.”

“Don’t tease him.”

“I wasn’t.”

Luna joined them then for a chat, followed closely by George Weasley and Angelina Johnson. Draco still didn’t budge. This was possibly the best night of Neville’s life.

 

*~~~*

  
Neville was woken by the familiar rustle of morning newspaper pages. Breakfast would be in bed again today, as it was every Sunday, which meant a cup of tea was probably waiting for him on the bedside table.

“Who’s hating who?” he asked before opening his eyes.

“Let’s see.” Draco flipped the paper over and began from the back. “Shit!” He bounded out of bed. Neville saw him grab his wand before putting on pants. Sounds of apparition, attacking bushes, and raised voices poured in through the open bedroom windows. “I’m going to kill that vindictive cow,” Draco declared and then apparated out of the joined room.

Neville sat up, brought the paper onto his lap and searched the page for the cause of Draco’s profanity. Neville stared at the headline: _Millennium long feud between Slytherin and Gryffindor reaches lusty end_

Amid the myriad of moving photographs were two static pictures from Harry and Ginny’s engagement party. An image of Draco and Neville against the wall, taken from the side so they were easily identified, preceded one of their spontaneous kiss at the table with Dudley Dursley. Both had been cropped and magnified from other pictures. The snipey gossip between them bore Pansy Parkinson’s by-line. Names, details of the event and the Muggle location were entirely accurate. Parkinson’s comments were extremely offensive. Beneath this she’d added two series of magical photos, one showing Neville’s progress from chubby loser to stand-in leader of Dumbledore’s Army, the other marked Draco’s descent. Neville didn’t bother reading the associated text. He could guess who was downstairs. His untouched tea went flying as he snatched his wand and apparated to the front door in his pyjama shorts.

Gran stood in front of Number 7, Lucius in front of Number 9, both a safe distance from the aggressive Flutter Bye-bye bushes, with Narcissa and Draco between the duelling pair. Augusta hit Draco with a jinx as Neville moved to join them.

“Gran!” Neville shouted in disappointment.

Narcissa retaliated against this attack on her son, which Neville hoped was an accident. He disarmed her and his wand immediately left his hand, landing in Draco’s. Draco lowered both wands. His shoulders sagged from the weight.

“You drew your wand against my mother?” His voice was cold. Not high like Voldemort’s, but void of hope, colourless and desperately numb. Like Remus when he lost Sirius, and grey like his eyes. The duelling stopped as though Draco’s words were heavy stones about to drop on everyone’s heads. His expression was classic First Year Malfoy, making Neville feel like a bumbling fat squib.

“She was going after Gran…”

“Your grandmother capably defended herself against a band of Death Eaters and Snatchers Longbottom. She doesn’t need assistance.” Draco violently tossed Neville’s wand back and addressed their families as he walked to the front door of Number 9. “Go home, all of you. There’s nothing to fight about anymore. It’s over.” He emphasised the finality of those last two words by locking the door behind him.

Neville ignored everyone else and returned to Number 7 rather than knocking on 9’s door. The internal walls were joined. He took the stairs two and three at a time, hoping to find the familiar outline of a handprint on the mirror between bedrooms. It wasn’t there. He pressed his hand against the cold glass so Draco would know he was still welcome on this side. Then he called loudly through the wall. Draco immediately stepped through the mirror and leaned back against it. He looked a familiar degree of wretched but at least his disgusted disappointment in Neville was no longer blatant.

“It’s too much, isn’t it?” Neville asked quietly. He didn’t want this to be over but yelling would guarantee they had no way back. Family grievances always found a way into their quarrels despite four years of trying. Now Gran and Lucius knew it would be harder to focus on the positives of their relationship.

Draco nodded. “I thought we were past this. My parents were finally getting along again… This isn’t a decision I’m making lightly Neville. I know why you reacted like that. That witch raised you. She’s the only link to your parents that proves they were ever truly alive. Choosing to stay with me now would turn her against you. Which loss is easier to bear?”

Neville stepped forward and hugged him fiercely. Draco didn’t resist and hugged him back.

“Don’t you dare say it Longbottom, and don’t make me say it either.” Draco’s voice was hoarsely brittle so Neville showed him instead. Draco reciprocated in full. It didn’t change anything and they both knew it. They spent their last day and night together without saying another word.


	2. Love & Harmony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long history of conflict between the Malfoy, Black and Longbottom families may have driven Draco and Neville apart but not even separate marriages can keep them apart. Desperation leads Draco to confide in Neville's catatonic parents. The presence of his son breaks through the curses cast by his aunt and Neville becomes more determined to make Draco officially, eternally his. The origins of the Room of Requirement are revealed, so too the secret of the sealed room in the Department of Mysteries. Neville and Draco's love proves to be truly epic.

Neville discovered through a _Quibbler_ article that Pansy Parkinson had been found guilty of using Disillusionment charms to sneak in to social events uninvited then stun guests, alter their memories and use Polyjuice potion to become those guests in order to procure her scoops for the _Daily Prophet_. The conniving bitch was the central topic of discussion at a party Luna held in her loft apartment.

“Draco Malfoy incurably hexed Parkinson's face so she looks like she has Spattergroit,” Terry Boot told Luna’s guests. Terry had been one of the apprentice Healers on the fourth floor when Pansy was brought in. His smile of amusement wasn’t the most professional response to the situation, nor was taking pictures of Pansy in hospital which he'd brought to the party and handed around now.

“I sent Malfoy a thank you owl,” admitted Eloise Midgeon. Pansy had always drawn the cruellest attention to Eloise’s acne during school. Their bathroom confrontations were legendary, giving Eloise martyr status among bullied girls at Hogwarts.

“How did he respond to that?” Mandy Brocklehurst asked her.

“With a Howler that told me to piss off,” Eloise replied with a shrug. “You’d think snogging Neville would’ve softened him up a bit.” Terry and the witches laughed. Neville remained silent.

“Were those pictures real?” Hannah Abbott asked him quietly. “Were you…?”

Neville nodded silently without looking up from his selection of sushi. Luna set him free by calmly smashing the plum sauce on the floor and asking him to buy a replacement. “I’d better come with you to make sure you get the correct one.”

There was no point arguing with Luna. She didn’t ask or say anything as they walked.

“Why are we walking to the market?” Neville asked.

“We’re not. We’re just walking. No-one touched the plum sauce so I would have had to throw it out anyway. Store bought can’t compare to Kreacher’s.”

Neville put a fraternal arm over Luna’s shoulders and kissed the side of her face with the first true smile he’d managed in almost a month. He’d been half of a couple for four years. The time since moved at an irregular pace. Was it a blink ago, or eternity? He missed Draco, so much, not only the sex, dumb things such as the rustle and snap of newspaper pages while he was trying to sleep in on a Sunday. Like Draco’s weight in the bed. Neville seemed to settle deeper into the mattress now and it felt wrong. Domestic moments at the core of their relationship no longer existed. Numbness alternated with pain, routine with unfamiliar.

 _Couples break up every day. It shouldn’t be such a big deal._ Yet Neville mourned.

Draco stepped out of a building in front of them and the wizards froze as though immobilised. Then Draco noticed the friendly embrace and misunderstood. Neville removed the arm from Luna’s shoulder and stepped forward, touching Draco’s sleeve before he could apparate. “Don’t you miss me at all?” he asked. Hopefully Draco would laugh and deliver an answer so acidic it dissolved the permeating sense of loss.

Draco didn’t move. Then he let their eyes meet. “Only a thousand times a day, give or take five hundred.”

“I’d best get back to my party. It’s nice to see you Draco.” Luna waved and turned back. Neville wished he could be so casual about this chance encounter.

“You too Lovegood,” Draco replied. At least he sounded as strung out as Neville. “I miss her almost as much as you.”

“Can we try again?”

“Why?” Draco’s question wasn’t sharply delivered but it still made Neville flinch. “I want to, but what will change? They might kill each other next time. Whether it’s deliberate or accidental won’t matter. It’ll hurt more. Hard to imagine…” Draco kissed him goodbye on the cheek and walked away before Neville could reach for him. Then he turned back, practically leapt at Neville and snogged the life out of him. Neville held him close and savoured the feel of him. Draco touched Neville’s face, tracing from eyebrow to chin with the pad of one thumb while their eyes absorbed each other. “I miss you, alright? I’m suffering and haven’t stopped loving you. But it has to be this way.”

“Do you have to be anywhere right now?”

“Why?”

“One more night, one more morning to wake up beside you and add to my memory.”

“No…is what I should be saying.”

Neville had many ways to make Draco say yes, and tried his best to convince Draco that the only mistake they made was breaking up.  


*~~~*

  
They stared into each other’s eyes, nudging their partner awake whenever eyelids drooped too low, but eventually they were too tired for that and their last night together came to an end. Neville’s heavier body draped over Draco’s slender figure in the morning. Fingers caressed his back, neck and shoulders. Neville snuggled closer. Draco hugged him and then began to move away. Neville tightened his grip.

“Don’t make things easy, do you Longbottom?”

Neville grinned triumphantly up at him.

Draco’s responding smile faded quickly. “I won’t let anyone else die or lose a family member because of me. Can you please understand and accept that?”

“So when Gran pops her clogs of natural causes…”

“Then you’re mine,” quipped Draco.

Neville rolled back a bit and linked the fingers of their right hands together. “Why are you so convinced this can’t be sorted?”

“That story Lovegood was telling us about, _Black Diamond and the Inferior Pure-blood_ , isn’t based on our parents. Luna was about eight centuries out. The story was removed from _Romantically Tragic_ after another of my ancestors was charged with using it to incite violence against her father’s mistress, who happened to be the mother of the young witch in the tale - Ursula Black. Ursula became smitten with the young and rebellious herbology professor Linden Longbottom during her fifth year at Hogwarts. Linden began demanding Mudbloods be enrolled at Hogwarts and educated alongside those with established magical ancestry. Granger would love him. Ursula became his second in command, helping write slogans on walls and ‘encouraging’ students to sign petitions that were sent to the Wizengamot. They chained themselves to the front gates of Hogwarts at the start of Ursula's seventh year shouting “Access shall be granted to all children with magical ability, or none!” Not precisely snappy but it attracted enough attention for other students and professors to join them. The true nature of their relationship was discovered and hit with every form of artillery, including memory modifications,” Draco mimed the rather menacing flick of a wand. “Bringing it to an end before Ursula sat NEWT and beginning the delightful feud between our families.”

“How do you know all this?” Neville asked, expecting Luna to be the source.

“Severus Snape.”

Neville twisted around to wtf grimace at Draco. Draco tried not to find this face amusing. Neville almost got distracted. Draco captured his heart in so many ways. It was nice to know it remained mutual.

“We have a portrait of Severus at the Manor. He was my godfather, if you hadn’t already surmised. He asked Phineas Nigellus and the other headmaster portraits.” Draco replied. “Another Black was disowned for marrying a Longbottom further along, as you may recall.”

Harry had shown them the relevant burn in the Black family tree tapestry during Neville and Draco’s first visit to Grimmauld Place as a couple.

“It seems we’re destined to repeat history in one form or another.” Neville’s lament pushed Draco out of his bed, the opposite of Neville’s intention. “Or perhaps we’re the pair to bring the feud to an end.”

“Stop that. It’s hard enough to say goodbye as it is.” It always had been. “This was clearly a mistake.”

“Can’t we be…?”

“If you say ‘friends’ I’m transfiguring your dick into a flamingo.”

“How am I going to cope without your snippy comments?”

“I’m sure Weasley will be happy to help you out.”

“It’s not the same.”

“No. Nothing is.” Draco’s wristwatch said something in French. He huffed dejectedly. “I have to go. This truly has to be goodbye.” He knelt on Neville’s bed and hesitated until his watch shrieked at him. Then he hurriedly kissed Neville on the lips and headed for the bedroom door.

“What’s it saying?”

“Reminding me that as last in line of two noble houses I have an obligation to my ancestors and Pure-blood witches who don’t want to marry a Weasley, hence I’m needed elsewhere.”

“ ** _What?_** ” Neville demanded with an indignant shout.

“I’m not, I haven’t… It’s some traditional thing that officially puts me on the meat market. Hopefully no witch is that desperate. No heterosexual intimacy will be occurring today.” Draco adjusted the collar and cuffs of his shirt one last time as he gave Neville his assurances. The routine was painfully familiar yet calmed Neville down somewhat.

Of course Draco would be trying to make peace with his father any way he knew how. Neville couldn’t begrudge him that. “You calling me desperate?” he quipped.

“If the Sorting Hat fits,” Draco replied with a smile as he left. The entire morning exchange made Neville’s grief easier to bear, although nothing erased it completely.  


*~~~*

  
Time without Draco flowed like treacle and Neville felt like a fly caught in it, struggling to get free. He went through the motions but never seemed to get anywhere beyond his career. Attending Ginny and Harry’s wedding alone reminded him of everything he’d lost. After months of keeping it in he confided in his mother. She couldn’t give him advice, or even comfort, but Mum would listen without prejudice.

“Why can’t we be allowed to love each other? Lucius accused me of plotting against him by seducing his son out of the gene-pool. Gran…!” Neville dared not speak against Gran although he blamed her more than Lucius for Draco’s decision. “If she’d jinxed Lucius instead then… You would have reacted like Narcissa if Lucius attacked me with more than insults, even by accident. Then Draco…” Neville would have done precisely the same thing if the roles had been reversed. “So I couldn’t argue. It was the worst thing that ever happened to me. That I can remember, anyway. Why can’t I catch a break? Almost everything was wonderful. The only way it could have been more perfect was if you and Dad had kept talking, and been able to get out of here.” He cried in Alice’s lap again. “We have so many important things in common. It’s like half my soul resides with him and half of his with me so we’re somehow whole, but only when we’re together.”

A trembling hand grasped hold of Neville’s wrist. He sat back, assuming his father was reaching for Mum. Frank’s eyes were filled with sadness and sympathy. His other hand gripped Neville’s shoulder firmly, despite its frailty.

“Boy,” Frank said in a croak.

“My baby,” Alice’s soft voice added between the constant background music of her humming.

“Poor boy,” Frank said.

“He still loves me,” Neville said quietly, so his dad would see that not everything was hopeless. “Knowing it’s as difficult for him often makes it easier. But sometimes,” it made Neville crumble into a privately blubbering mess. “Some days I believe Bellatrix’s cruellest act was letting you and Mum live. I never know how much I can say to you, or about what, whether my visits make you feel better or worse…”

Alice’s hum brightened and Frank nodded with the first smile he’d ever aimed at Neville.

“Poor boy, good boy,” Frank said slowly, nodding again at the end. Each word was heavier than the pause before it. “So sad. Sorry,” he added. His fingers managed to close feebly over Neville’s shoulder before Frank slumped, exhausted.

Alice reached for Frank’s hand and stopped humming as they stared at the wall with familiar vacancy. Neville finally understood what they were hiding from. He knelt between them and covered their joined hands with his. “Don’t be,” he said firmly. “I love you. Thank you.”

A tear beaded at the corner of his father’s eye. Neville waited until it began to slide, and pressed his lips against it. “Thank you,” he whispered again. Then he said goodbye.

He needed to have a discussion with Gran.  


*~~~*

  
“…years like that! There was no need for it Gran! Holding back makes them worse because they think we’re disappointed and afraid of them. These stiff and formal visits have been slowly killing my parents!”

“Don’t raise your voice to me in this manner Neville,” Augusta replied coolly. “How was I to know the Healers were wrong? You were an infant, barely able to run the length of a room without falling onto your bottom. Your parents’ behaviour had become unpredictable, their magic erratic. Their wands were removed for your safety as much as theirs. Every Healer on the case told me to maintain a calm speaking voice at all times. Frank had already injured Alistair Moody and a Healer for startling Alice on separate occasions, so movement was to be kept to a minimum.” Augusta gestured for Neville to sit on her favourite chaise. He did and Gran grasped his hand in two of hers as she sat beside him. Her voice lost its sharp edge. “Do you think I enjoyed keeping the only source of possible joy in their lives away from them until you learned self-control? There is so much to tell yet you were always too young, until you became too old and then it seemed telling you everything could only make you resent me for keeping such important information secret. You see, your parents had been held captive and tortured for weeks before the Order of the Phoenix implemented the unauthorised plan that led to their release. Alice asked after you four times a day for the first three months. “Where is my baby? Is he alive? Neville? Frank?” She never said anything else. Alice was the age you are now, your father merely a few years older, and the poor girl would sit wringing her hands, rocking and sobbing. Although Healers and friends constantly explained that you were safe and being looked after while she and Frank recovered, Frank’s presence was the only thing that soothed her. This is why they are housed in a single room.” Augusta gently pressed Neville’s hands between hers. “An apprentice Healer and I disobeyed and brought you to see them, hoping that would help. Alice became hysterical because you had grown so much. Frank heard her alarm and immediately reached for a wand that was no longer there, accusing me of being an impostor and trying to fob off some Death Eater brat as his darling boy. From that moment I lived in constant fear that my son, treasure of my heart, could accidentally kill his own child. If Frank’s wand hadn’t been sitting in my bedside drawer, next to Alice’s… it would have been my fault.”

“Gran, I’m sorry.” Neville knew the words were inadequate, bolstered though they were by the arm he placed around his grandmother’s shoulders.

“We can say sorry for every mistake we’ve made once we enter the arch. Perhaps then we will have sufficient time to cover them all.” Gran patted his hand in the same straightforward manner. “I took in photo albums after that, to show how you’d grown. Alice began to hum as we turned through the pages and it’s the only sound she makes since, while awake that is, so once you’d learned to sit still and keep quiet we brought you in again. You were three years old by then, clutching my hand in terror and not saying a peep. All four of us sat and stared in silence, like melons with faces painted on. Alice gave you the first of those wretched sweet wrappers when we made ready to leave. You said “Thanks Mum” in the tiniest, most insecure voice I’ve ever heard. Her smile… You clutched that thing so tightly in your little hand during your afternoon nap… I had to call some friends of your parents to care for you because I spent the evening in tears.”

She and Neville were in danger of spending this evening the same way. “I kept every single one of those wrappers,” Neville admitted.

“I know. I found them and never had the heart to throw them out, though I detest the things. Frank and Alice continued to decline despite every effort. Those old fears came back nine-hundredfold when you told me you’d begun going to St Mungo’s on your own. Neville, dear, I hope you are right about your parents, although it means I have failed as a mother. Being wrong can never be more painful.”

Neville knew precisely how Gran felt. He’d never thought to ask, just assumed she hadn’t wanted to talk about such things. “Would you like me to stay? I can fix supper and…”

“Thank you dear. Tomorrow perhaps,” said Gran as she stood. “Tonight I wish to visit my darling son and hopefully cry with him instead of over him.”

Neville wished he could do that with Draco. He’d learned so much and Draco remained the first person he thought of sharing anything with. They’d been able to talk and argue about everything, honest and openly. Luna was his second option with Ginny third but tonight neither could compare, so he told nobody.  


*~~~*

  
Hannah Abbott and Terry Boot joined Neville’s ellipse of friends thanks to Luna. Hannah sobbed on Neville’s shoulder more than Luna’s when Terry left her for a Veela and perpetual grief united them against the nauseating onslaught of happy-joy among their social set. Everyone they knew was already married or breeding. Widespread community pressure to replenish the severely depleted magical population prompted Hannah and Neville to get married so their families would leave them alone. Children would interfere with Hannah’s dream of owning the Leaky Cauldron and Neville’s hopes of becoming a herbology professor. An asexual partnership suited them both. The newspaper announcement of Draco’s engagement to Astoria Greegrass was another contributing factor. Their dutiful marriages were inadvertently set for the same date—almost three years after their last goodbye.

Bumping into each other at Gringotts fifty-two hours before their respective weddings was entirely coincidental.

“How’s your dad doing?” Draco asked as they waited to be taken to their respective vaults. Neville would have ignored the enquiry if he hadn’t been able to recognise genuine concern behind it.

“He’s been growing stronger recently. There’s little change in his coherency or levels of interaction, but he’s no longer on a rapid decline.” Neville waited for Draco’s usual jibe about the growth of his vocabulary. The lips he’d regularly kissed, that promised to be miserable without him, twitched in preparation to tease him but no quip came. “How are things with you?” He selfishly hoped Draco was pining for him, like Remus after Sirius, or Snape after Harry’s mum.

“Father’s health has also been improving recently.”

“Lucius and Narcissa worked things out then?” _after shattering everything we’d believed was rightfully ours_.

“Not entirely, no, but his temper stabilised soon after I announced my engagement. Now Mother’s disappointed in me instead,” Draco said with a grimace.

“I saw that in the newspapers, the announcement. Or rather, Gran pointed it out to me in the middle of Didn’t-I-tell-you-you-were-being-a-fool-Neville?”

“How did you react to that?” Rather than being snide, this query highlighted Draco’s hope that he shared Neville’s selfish hopes of mutual misery.

“By doing something completely foolish and getting engaged too,” Neville admitted with a self-mocking grin. Draco’s expression matched. “Say the word and I’ll call it off.” It was a daring gamble but Neville would berate himself for eternity if he didn’t try. They still cared after three years apart. That must mean something.

Hope and temptation were stifled by Draco’s sense of duty and his determination to make decent, responsible choices. “That’s hardly honourable behaviour Longbottom, even from a friend of Weasley and Finnegan.”

Neville admired Draco’s resolve as much as he wanted to break it. “They’re still not game to mention you around me, or ask about anything pertaining to us.”

“Blaise was the opposite until his new wife proved too much of a distraction. We became friends again once his murderous mother moved to Azkaban.”

“That’s good, on all counts.”

“Astoria and I wouldn’t have become close if Blaise hadn’t married her sister. Remember Daphne from our year? She was one of that cow Parkinson’s friends.”

“So were you,” Neville saw fit to point out. “You were all over each other.”

“No. Pansy was all over me. I allowed it because I had no physical desire for her whatsoever and it left me free to perv on Theodore Nott without having to fob off other unwanted female attention. Picking on Parkinson with Astoria is almost as enjoyable as plotting against Potter with that humungous Muggle cousin of his.”

“Dudley was upset when my skinny blond bed-friend with the pointy face didn’t come to Harry’s wedding.”

“Is that how he described me?” Draco asked with an amused smile. Neville wanted to kiss it off.

“He had some fiendish plans for the reception and hoped you’d help carry them out.” Neville could smile about it now. At the time he’d been distraught by Draco’s absence and told Dudley to piss off.

Draco’s laugh echoed with regret as they reached the Longbottom family vault. Neville did not expect Draco to wait for him.

Sometimes he hated being right.  


*~~~*

  
Ginny passed baby James to Harry and followed Neville into his private greenhouse. “Astoria Malfoy’s candid like Luna, only her sense is easily discernible among the nonsense. Perfect attitude for a midwife,” Ginny told Neville. “She asked me about that old Daily Prophet hate fest of Parkinson’s since the incriminating photos were taken at my engagement party.” She negligently shrugged off Neville’s warning glower. “We had to talk about something while waiting for James to attach properly. Pity my son’s future wife Neville, he’s a born biter. I told Astoria to ask Draco—and he told her the truth.”

Neville dropped the potted sapling he’d intended to transplant. Some immature Dirigible Plums broke off and floated to the ceiling. “The actual, proper truth, or a Malfoy twisting of the truth?” he asked.

“The absolute honest, Luna Lovegood level of uncomfortable truth,” said Ginny. “Astoria spent five years in the Slytherin common room with the guy and knows he can’t be trusted so rather than take him at his word she snuck one of George’s truth potions into Draco’s pudding then asked him again with the same result. Except,” Ginny paused for a dramatic finish. “Draco added that although he loves her, he loves you more!”

“Why are they still married then?” Neville’s hands shook as he plonked the sapling into a new pot and swept up the spilled soil.

This was obviously not the response Ginny was hoping for. “This was before that. It’s what convinced Astoria to propose in the first place. He’d been entirely honest without depreciating his relationship with you. She only asked me about that article to hear your side of events because **He Still Loves You**!” Ginny placed great emphasis on what she believed was the most important bit.

“And I still love him, yet rather than being bonded together we’re married to other people.”

“Where did that B word come from? You’ve been apart for four years. How and when was the B word bandied about between you and why wasn’t I told?”

“That’s irrelevant Ginny. Like the rest of this conversation.”

Ginny stared at him blankly, posture rigid. Her suddenly shrewd expression had him worried. “Well I’ll just continue to gossip away while you work. Feel free to block out the sound of my voice. Astoria’s pregnant, about as far along as I am with this melon.” She had the grace to not smile triumphantly when Neville’s eyes shot to her convex waistline. He hadn’t wanted to comment, knowing how difficult weight could be to shift. “We haven’t announced Bumpy’s presence yet. Hermione deserves a bit of attention seeing as this is her first. The way Ron carries on you’d think he invented sperm.” Ginny’s brown eyes rolled dramatically.

Neville smiled. “Hannah seems to be the only one of you who isn’t pregnant.”

“Firstly, you have to be doing it with her for that to happen so it’s no surprise it will take you two a lot longer. Ten months of every year living at Hogwarts doesn’t allow much baby making time, **Professor** Longbottom.”

Neville only recently became Pomona Sprout’s teaching assistant and had many years ahead before he could earn the title Professor.

“Particularly not when Hannah spends most nights trying to make the Leaky Cauldron a success,” Ginny added to prove she wasn’t suggesting he was neglecting certain husbandly duties, which they both knew he was. “Close friends getting married to balm their mutually broken hearts—sounds familiar.”

Neville stared at Ginny in irritation. “Which story’s that in Luna’s favourite book?” he asked, as though he couldn’t guess.

“I’m trying to make sure this particular story won’t be in there – hint, hint. Commit adultery in Hogsmeade – hint. Or at Hogwarts – hint, hint. Am I being too subtle?”

Neville flicked a deflated plum at her.

“Watch out for Bumpy!” Ginny shielded her slightly rounded abdomen with both hands. “The point I was trying to make before pregnancy brain got in the way, is that Astoria doesn’t want her husband living with a divided heart. Neither does Hannah I’ll wager.”

Harry brought a fussing James back to the greenhouse and rapped at a window. “Someone’s hungry again.”

“You do realise that by the time your first born is weaned, his sibling will be nursing?” Ginny complained as she strode outside. “You won’t be getting near my luscious boobs again until James and Bumpy have finished with them!” She sounded so much like Molly that Neville and Harry grinned at each other through the greenhouse door. It didn’t stop Neville feeling like Remus after Sirius died, though.  


*~~~*

  
They resembled wooden statues as they stood outside the Hog’s Head Tavern. It had been a long time since their last goodbye. This meeting was no accident but it was far more awkward.

“Hello,” Neville said quietly.

“Hello,” Draco replied. “I wouldn’t be here if my wife didn’t…”

“Have you by the balls,” Neville quipped, having heard that Draco was whipped. He thought that was rather rich coming from Harry and Ron.

“Trust us to keep things reasonable,” Draco corrected. “I hate when you pre-empt my sentences. You always get it wrong.” He entered the tavern and Neville followed.

“How’s Scorpius?” Neville asked as they sat at one of many empty tables.

“Happy enough for a boy who looks more like me, now he’s stopped looking like a wizened turnip that is. Not that that’s much of a difference lately.” Draco stopped as he noticed Neville staring at him. “Still can’t resist me then? Even knowing the world will end?” he smirked.

Neville kissed him, more than once although Draco responded the first time. Brown eyes locked onto grey. “Every room in the castle, you said. We never made it beyond one.”

“We can’t,” Draco said reluctantly and looked away.

“What moron gave you morals?”

“Some Gryffindor I shacked up with after leaving school.”

“Remember the last time we said goodbye?” Neville meant to sound humorous and seductive, but it came out sad.

Draco nodded. “It still hurts,” he admitted.

Neville’s hand hesitated behind Draco’s back, wavering between moving closer and further away before making contact. Draco turned to him and they began slowly kissing with their eyes closed. Then they went upstairs to say goodbye again.  


*~~~*

  
Draco aimed a narrow gaze at Neville’s nose as Neville’s fingers continued touching the bumps of Draco's vertebrae, up and down like rungs of a ladder. “You understand the principle of ‘goodbye’ don’t you, Longbottom?”

“Let’s see: ‘Going for now, so we should fuck in case I can’t come back again.’ That’s the definition you taught me, anyway.” Neville traced the lower outline of Draco’s shoulder blade. “Did you lie to me Draco?” he teased as Draco began to melt again at his touch.

“I need to fly a broom home you know.”

The significance of his chosen mode of travel wasn’t lost on Neville. It was easier and safer to change direction on a broom than during apparition. Draco hadn’t been sure about coming here. Yet here he was, naked in a rented bed after being lovingly farewelled.

“I’ll take you home without making a scene,” Neville promised then kissed the side of Draco’s neck. “If this is definitely the last time we’ll say goodbye. Please?”

Draco arched his back to expose his throat and Neville hauled him into his lap. Draco was still sticky and stretched as he fit himself perfectly onto Neville’s cock, which continued growing inside him as they rocked in subtle rhythm, touching and kissing everywhere they could reach. Neville wanted to bite Draco’s neck, scar him, keep him forever because he couldn’t stop loving him and needed him back.

Neville missed his wit, face, conversation, opinions, the contention Draco could cause with a single facial expression. He missed Draco wrapped close around him in this manner, draped all over him like their first time, vulnerable and relaxed. Draco could be sleeping if not for the pants, moans and languid words against Neville’s neck, lazily taking an arseful of cock. The intimacy of this position meant they literally could not get any closer and it had always been Neville’s favourite. The idea of some other man taking his place in this scenario pained him. He stopped thrusting but kept one hand in Draco’s hair and tightened the arm around his back.

“Tease…” Draco tried urging him back into motion. “Something wrong?”

“Jealous,” Neville admitted.

“I don’t bottom for the wife,” Draco whispered tantalisingly in Neville’s ear, “only you. Do you mean…? Have you been …?” His unfinished question echoed Neville’s earlier dread.

“No, no-one else,” Neville quietly assured him.

“This isn’t goodbye, is it?” Draco slouched against Neville’s chest and looped his arms loosely about Neville’s neck and shoulders.

“I hope not,” Neville replied honestly and angled his neck so they could kiss as they resumed making love. It was more incredible than make-up sex while living together. Their embrace tightened and Draco’s dick stiffened as the friction caused it to grow hotter and heavier between them. Neville loved the feel of it. “Come on me,” he huffed as he rammed into Draco with hefty slaps. “Let me take some of you home.”

Draco groaned as his cum splattered Neville’s torso and stuck to his own. “You, disgustingly erotic,” he gasped, boneless again.

Neville kept bouncing him so he could come too, one more, yes, glory.

“Should have ridden bareback, hear it squelching out as you finish pounding me—oh-fucking-fuck.” Draco clenched everything around Neville, arms, legs, arse, chin. Neville slowly pushed into him a couple more times and then sagged back against the headboard. Draco stayed on him, like a blanket. 

“This isn’t fair,” Draco said eventually. Neville agreed by solemnly kissing his neck. “I have a wife and a son,” Draco said as though he’d discovered a second head growing from his shoulder while looking in the mirror.

“You also have my dick in your arse,” Neville reminded him with a slow swivel that made them both squirm with pleasure.

“You have a wife too. How can you let me be so selfish? It’s even more dangerous now, for all of us.” Draco’s fear threatened to bite Neville too yet this altruistic side of him made him more attractive.

Neville angled his head so he could see Draco properly, touching his hair and face. “You’re so incredibly beautiful Dray. Our paths are going to continue to cross and I can’t stop loving you in between.” The British magical community was a small one, less than two-thousand after the war, hence the increased obligation to marry and breed. “I try. We haven’t seen each other in years, yet…”

“This can’t be natural. It feels like time only progresses at the proper speed when I’m with you. That scares me.”

Something else scared Neville. He should have thought of it before. “How traditional was your marriage ceremony?” If Draco had broken an Unbreakable Vow they could pretty much count his lifespan in heartbeats.

“We very carefully worded our vows. It would hardly be fair if Astoria finally found the woman of her dreams only to be carried off by a single adulterous kiss. Besides, I may have promised a certain man of mine that we had a date once our contentious relatives entered the arch.”

“Astoria…”

“You and I never talked about it, for obvious reasons, but the idea of parenthood holds a certain appeal. Astoria feels the same and has similar disadvantages, i.e. finding heterosexual activity disgusting. We might try for more if we can get over the physical horror. Watching this little bundle of noise, tears and bad smells develop a personality is more amazing than having a Transfiguration Professor who gets about as a tabby cat, or a werewolf teaching us DADA.”

Neville saw happiness in Draco’s features. A dark pain travelled through his heart, staining some pieces blacker than others, like ink powder through water. Draco sat up and held Neville’s face by the chin so he couldn’t look away.

“I’ve never been nice, Neville. I thought of making you hate me when we stopped living together and again that night we ended up back at your place. But then you’d probably think I never meant any of it, that the secrecy and risk were part of some mind-buggery. I read the funeral notices in both Prophet and Quibbler, getting my cruel hopes up that one of our main obstacles will be out of the way. Hopefully then the other can be persuaded to let us be. Loving you for nine years hasn’t made me a saint.” Draco released Neville’s chin and slapped his chest with the back of one hand. “And you, Longbottom! You haven’t just fallen off your moral high horse since we first hooked up, you’ve cooked and eaten it!”

Neville grinned.

“Don’t encourage me!” Draco protested.

Neville scooted down the bed as he rolled them over so Draco was beneath him. “I love you,” Neville declared joyously and kissed him with another grin. “Philanderer,” he added. Draco gave him a chortling kiss back.

“You’ve heard about the state of play with the Malfoy family. How are things between the Longbottoms?” Draco asked as they began getting dressed.

“Nothing so well thought out as your arrangement. We pretty much agreed this would get everyone off our backs. Hannah has no interest in making babies and Gran finally stopped nagging me about our hormonal rebellion.”

“Does Hannah know you planned on spending the day with me, and why?”

“Not yet. Ginny does. She suggested waiting to see how today panned out before… Hannah knows we were a serious couple and how empty my life became when you broke it off. Whatever direction we take from here, I **will** be telling her when she gets home.”

Draco tapped each shoe with his wand and the laces tied themselves as he sat on the bed with his legs crossed in front of him. Neville turned to comb his hair and saw Draco watching him in a sliver of mirror. He missed moments like this more than sex. Their hearts felt bonded although they’d never made the vow.

“I want to do more than fuck,” Draco said bluntly.

Neville stared into reflected grey eyes. “Good.”

“Are you going to teach at Hogwarts once you’re a fully qualified professor?”

“Hopefully.” Neville tucked the comb in his pocket as he sat on the opposite corner of the bed. “Here’s some castle gossip: The Professors still haven’t located the Room of Requirement and there’s a large crack in what appears to be five feet of solid stone in place of the Room of Change. No-one’s been able to fill it or identify what caused it. Maybe you could come and take a look before summer ends, when there are no students about.”

“Why?”

“Because that was **our** room and I’m harbouring some Lovegood-worthy suspicions about it.”

Draco agreed to take a look.  


*~~~*

  
Ginny and Luna expected Hannah to be more understanding about the Draco situation, as did Neville. Hermione took Hannah’s side which caused a great deal of friction between the sisters-in-law, particularly when Hermione declared the Ministry’s ‘keep magic alive’ policies were barbaric. Ron supported the Ministry’s stance. “We’ll become extinct otherwise. It’s a miracle there’s any of us left as it is.”

“Perhaps if they introduced a policy encouraging fanatical purebloods to marry Muggles,” Hermione snapped her retort.

“What they should really be promoting is marrying for love, like we did!” Ron raged back.

“Next time Neville tells you he’s shagging Draco? Don’t tell Hermione,” Harry told Ginny. She nodded with round, brown eyes. Neville decided complete secrecy might be the way to go this time around.  


*~~~*

  
Professor McGonagall was still Headmistress at Hogwarts. Surprisingly, she was also waiting on the doorstep of Neville’s newest address.

“Sorry to intrude in this manner Neville. Might I come in for a cup of tea, and perhaps, a chat?”

The novelty of being addressed as an equal by those who taught him was enough to stop Neville gawping like an idiot at this request. “Is everything alright with Professor Sprout?” he asked as he showed Minerva McGonagall in to the humble rooms above the Hogsmeade chandler. He hadn’t bothered finding anything larger or finer since leaving the London apartment he’d rented with Hannah. Professors Sprout and McGonagall had discussed building a ‘wee house’ behind the Hogwarts Greenhouses for his use while completing the thesis on Gulping Gladioli and other nocturnal, predatory plants.

“No, no. Pomona’s leg is healing nicely. Bear with me whilst I take what may seem a roundabout path. You see, Mr Filch has been most frantic these past four days. He insists that the mysterious crack is now only three feet deep rather than six. These measurements happen to be incorrect, as of one hour ago. The gap is now only **two** feet deep and three inches across at the widest point, rather than seven. The wall bears no evidence of external magic.”

Neville continued preparing the tea tray in silence.

“I have a theory about the strange behaviour of that section of wall which I have yet to discuss with the school governors or my predecessors. Perhaps, Mr Longbottom, you have your own?”

Ah, so it was back to more formal modes of address. Neville knew Minerva would not leave without an answer. “The Room of Requirement was destroyed the same night as Voldemort. According to the school house-elves that room was the only one not built by human or elf magic but by Hogwarts itself. Hogwarts could be trying to build another but the magical damage was too extensive…”

“I too have spoken with the house-elves on this matter particularly those whose ancestors helped construct the original castle. They believe Hogwarts has already produced a replacement. The location of that crack is not insignificant.” Minerva stirred then sipped her tea. Neville ate a crumbly biscuit. Minerva raised an eyebrow. Neville fidgeted like a First Year beneath her scrutiny. She spoke quietly. “Hogwarts formed a new secret passage into Hogsmeade because you were hungry. It could have led you to the school kitchens instead. Dobby was still working there, drumming up support for Harry Potter among his fellow house-elves. He would have granted unlimited pantry access to reward your loyalty to Harry. None of the Hogwarts elves would have revealed your presence.” Minerva let him think on the significance of the path to the Hog’s Head. He’d never considered that. “Do you know how Tom Riddle’s Death Eaters gained entry the night Professor Dumbledore died?”

Neville nodded. Minerva sat in silence, determined to make him say it. “Draco let them in, through the Room of Requirement.”

“Why?”

“Voldemort threatened to kill his…”

“No. Why did the Room of Requirement let those Death Eaters out when it could have held them captive? Why did the only sentient room in the school aid a boy who intended to do great harm to us all?”

“Maybe it saw something in him that we didn’t.”

Minerva nodded with subtle satisfaction at Neville’s response. “You and Hannah have not separated due to your extended residence at Hogwarts. I have come to believe that that room was not only created by you and Draco, Mr Longbottom, but **for** the two of you.”

“Why?”

“If only I knew. There has been some form of reconciliation between the two of you? Say, about four days ago?”

Neville felt his cheeks and throat grow hot. He nodded.

“Then I shall ask Kingsley to stop Unspeakables poking about at that hole in the wall. The tea was lovely, thank you.” Minerva stood and reached for her tartan pointed hat. “Unfortunately, those who try to establish peace once the common enemy is vanquished misjudge the effect of policy on individuals. Many are worse off now than before as they search for personal peace while trying to do what’s best for society. I wish you both the best of luck. And some common sense for your detractors,” she added sincerely and showed herself out.

Neville raced to the post office and sent an owl to Draco, asking ‘How soon can you come to Hogwarts?’  


*~~~*

  
The door was right there, exactly as they’d last seen it the night of the Restoration Ball. Neville didn’t understand. He’d examined that jagged fissure in the wall every day of his internship.

“You realise murmuring ‘Hey Dray’ in that sexy way you used to wake me up pretty much guarantees we’ll shag. There’s seriously no need for mythical tales.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“Should we go in? Or is the room bait, luring us in so Hogwarts can eat us?”

Neville laughed and let Draco open the door. They walked in together. It was dusty but otherwise unchanged. They immediately set to cleaning it up. Draco sat with his back against the winter wall, judging distances and sliding his bottom along the floor until some internal condition was met. Then he patted the floor between raised knees. Neville knelt before him with a smile. This was precisely where they first kissed. Draco’s hands covered his. After a momentous silence, Draco began to confide.

“I was honestly on my way home after that argument we had in Moaning Myrtle’s penthouse. This door opened as I rushed along and I stopped, expecting someone to come out. No-one did and the room was empty. I assumed that meant Potter had been hiding in here with his father’s cloak. Since no-one attacked me I knew he wasn’t. I had to come in. Everything came out. Then you came in. I was more mortified than pleased to see you at the time.”

“I thought I’d never see you again, not to talk to like we had been. What possible excuse did I have? I couldn’t concentrate and found my way here, expecting to be alone.”

“In seven years of school I’d never seen you yell at anyone but me and evil Mr Riddle, so I didn’t harbour any hopes for a happy ending when you found me.”

“Then kissing me was even more courageous than I thought.”

“I admired and envied you from the end of Fifth Year, you more than Potter.”

Neville aimed to kiss their lingering adolescent insecurities away. Draco’s response implied that he came close. Neville admitted in a whisper that he still hoped to be bound together, unbreakably. It felt not only right but necessary. Draco softly disagreed.

“That wouldn’t be fair to you or Astoria. Why should I have everything while you only live half-lives?”

“I’ve had less than half a life since you divided our home. Don’t I deserve you?”

“Don’t beg,” Draco said hoarsely.

“You used to like it when…”

“Shut up.” Draco kissed him with rough vigour. “Not here!” he insisted as Neville’s hand invaded his shirt.

A new door swung open and clunked against the summer wall. They turned to stare. “Hogwarts is a bigger pervert than Moaning Myrtle,” Draco declared.

“So are you.” Neville began reminding him of some kinkier activities they’d indulged in. “Every room in the castle Draco, you promised.”

“You’re making more. That’s cheating.” Draco stood and helped Neville to his feet. The newest room was decorated in light, natural tones with a simple bed in one corner and small water fountain in another. “Ceiling fan,” Draco pointed directly above the bed as he flopped down on his back.

“We were having a serious discussion earlier,” Neville said as he sat beside Draco’s prone form. His hand lifted Draco’s shirt enough to tantalise. Draco’s hand travelled up Neville’s arm. He did not answer until his fingertips stroked the side of Neville’s neck.

“What we want is impossible.”

A short, narrow bookshelf appeared beside the bed. Neville looked over the three titles in the top shelf. “Perhaps not.” He leaned across Draco to select a book. Draco rolled over and chose another. Neville spooned behind him as they searched indexes and read out sections of selected chapters. They were soon touching and kissing between revelations before pushing books and clothes to the floor. This was no sedate love-making session despite their spooned positions and softly romantic start. Draco’s arm curled back and he clawed Neville’s neck as Neville wildly pounded his arse with a firm grip on his cock.

“Fuck, fuck…”

“Come, come…”

They both did as the other commanded and were soon saturated in sweat and spunk.

“You make me so weak. It’s pathetic,” Draco complained as they got dressed. “In spite of noble intentions I end up falling at your feet. Why is that, Neville?”

The words weren’t meant to sting but Neville couldn’t help comparing his ordinary features to Draco. “The way I suck you off sends you blind?” He figured that was the most likely reason, otherwise Draco would never have left. Draco didn’t reply. Neville avoided looking at him by pulling his shirt on over his head instead of unbuttoning it to put on properly.

“No, this was a problem before that,” Draco replied glibly. Neville saw him grin.

“You thought about it!”

“I didn’t, honestly! Well, about the first time you blew me – yes, I may have paused for a moment of fond reflection, but I already knew that wasn’t it.”

“You evil prick!” Neville dove across the bed after him. Draco avoided his waning wrath by gleefully leaping about. “Making me believe this was one-sided! Even for a moment, that kills, Draco. Merlin's arse! I don’t know why I’m so hung up on you. Truly, I don’t.”

“You better not mean that Longbottom or I’m never letting you fuck me ever again.” His grey eyes were wild with energy, foolishness, a hint of doubt, and a mountain range of affection. It had been like this when they began living beside each other, running through the townhouses opening and closing walls, flinging seductive comments and mock-insults at each other before tumbling together and either fucking or just snuggling where they fell. Neville had seen this expression in the reflection of his own face when Draco closed the mirror before Neville could chase him through, but then he’d turned around and opened it again, stood there looking like this and they knew. Just like then, they stopped playing cat-and-mouse. Draco let Neville catch him in a close embrace.

“We were epic Draco, like you said in the Great Hall.” It shouldn’t have ended.

“I miss the warm softness of your eyes,” Draco admitted.

“Your sharp critique of newspaper articles,” Neville replied.

“Dorky smile,” Draco added.

“Watching you dress—that thing you do where your hand rubs the corner of your head, messing up your hair when you can’t find what you’re looking for and then you can’t be bothered combing it again because the search for whatever it was made you late.”

“The way you smell of earth, greenery and flowers when you come home from the greenhouse, like all the natural and hopeful things in life.” That observation surprised Neville. “No matter how sweaty and cranky the job made you on the worst days, you still loved it.”

“I still love you.”

“I miss living with you.”

“We have to try to make this work. We deserve to be happy together. Don’t you agree?”

“I’m not leaving my wife. I can’t. The vows pertaining to protecting and maintaining the family we created were made according to the ancient traditions. Astoria and I have agreed to take lovers only if our son’s family remains intact. I half thought you’d have woken up to yourself by now, moved on.”

“Have you moved on?”

Draco’s expression was classic ‘don’t be so dim Longbottom’ and he mentioned several points to be considered before firm plans were made. “Once we sort those things out, then we can discuss the, bonding, issue.” His pauses around the B word weren’t caused by doubt or disinclination. Bonding was potent and ancient magic, not to be taken lightly. Draco wanted it too and was afraid that it might remain impossible.

“We’ll need somewhere private.”

“And comfortable, where we can argue as easily as do nothing.” It sounded like someone was dragging and stacking cardboard boxes in the neighbouring rooms as they listed criteria for their adulterous hideaway.

“Or laugh.”

“Receive guests or shut ourselves in.”

“Store objects and memories that are important to us without worrying about them being discovered,”

“Or becoming tarnished,” Draco added.

“With tranquil and inspiring views,” Neville imagined large, vaulted, plain glass windows similar to those in the winter parlour of Malfoy Manor.

“Close enough to both families in case of emergencies.”

“You’re a delightful blend of practical and romantic, Draco Malfoy.” Neville lightly kissed Draco’s neck.

“You too, which is why we’re a ridiculously perfect couple.” Draco opened the door and stepped into the corridor instead of the Room of Change.

They both paused in alarm before Neville closed the door behind them. It vanished into the wall. “I hope it’s still here,” he said and touched the stone. The original door returned and beyond it, the Room of All Seasons.

“Try for something else.”

“Like what?”

“A wardrobe so we can replace that cardigan you’ve got on. Did you let your grandmother start dressing you again the moment we separated?” Draco asked with a grimace. The strange shuffling, grating sound happened once again as lines appeared in the stonework, joining to form a small, elegantly carved wooden door. Draco opened it and grinned as he examined the articles of men’s clothing hanging from the rail and neatly folded in drawers. “Take that drab thing off and put this one on. Hogwarts no doubt knows your size.”

“Is this room dependent on us?” Had the Room of Requirement been constructing their other imagined possibilities?

“It mustn’t have finished healing when we left. Maybe we should’ve shagged in here instead of the common room.”

“Two down, something-something to go.”

“Predator,” Draco quipped.

Neville grinned.  


*~~~*

  
Casual communication resumed. Owls and cockatiels flew at all hours. No thought was too trivial to share. It was almost as though they’d returned to their beginning. On a whim, Neville wrote: _I spy with Mad-Moody’s eye, something that may be malicious…_

Draco replied with: _I’m not there so it must be Weasley. For sanity’s sake—run!_

_Where too?_

The cockatiel returned with a date, time, Hogwarts classroom number, and a command to bring protection.

Neville was too preoccupied by saucy thoughts to reply.  


*~~~*

  
Neville tried backing out of Honeydukes when he spotted three generations of Malfoy by the central display. The Potter family blocked his retreat by walking in behind him. James and Ginny’s boisterous greeting attracted unwelcome attention. Narcissa turned from the colourful showcase of soaring and tumbling sweets. A blond baby boy balanced precariously between her arms as he leaned excitedly toward the glass cabinet containing a wealth of goodies. Guilt followed surprise as another woman turned to stare. The fair-haired model of modern elegance could only be Astoria, Draco’s wife. Neville felt as attractive as his school toad Trevor by comparison. Why on earth was Draco bonking **him** all over Hogwarts when he was married to **her**?

Jealousy was a far too familiar emotion and rapidly trampled guilt to dust. Neville stared back and nodded a stern acknowledgement to the Mrs Malfoys then let James draw his attention to another part of the shop. Harry wasn’t as distracted by his son’s toddler babble as Neville would like.

“Didn’t you decide against…?” Harry was about eight months behind on Neville’s relationship status. Draco would find that typically amusing.

“No.”

“Why?”

How to put that into words? Because Neville grew up surrounded by people who had everything he didn’t, whether it was a parent holding their hand as they crossed the street, a wand that wasn’t a family heirloom, an owl to take to school instead of a pitiful toad, talent, courage, confidence—Draco.

“Because he’s rightfully mine,” Neville replied.

Harry’s silent, startled disappointment prompted Neville to immediately leave the sweet shop. He’d order Gran a birthday gift from the Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes catalogue. He wasn’t impressed when the four Potters were waiting at the front of his wee Hogwarts house. Ginny shook her head at something Harry said. Neville reluctantly plodded along the path and caught the end of her response.

“…approves.”

“That’s just what he says to string Neville along,” Harry replied.

“I find your attitude doubly offensive! For one it implies Neville’s gullible enough to be used like that. Secondly, you weren’t here that final year. Neither were Ron and Hermione, so their opinions in this matter are as half-arsed as yours. A lot of things changed Harry. **People** changed.”

“Not necessarily for the better,” Harry interjected. “It never bothered me when they became serious before, but this? Malfoy made his decision Ginny. Neville isn’t a golden snitch to be chased after, caught, and then let go just so Draco can catch him again!”

Neville was heartened by Harry’s concern, misguided though it may be. He began to interrupt, mostly because James was about to push his crawling brother down the porch stairs while their parents were distracted, but Ginny got in first.

“I was the one who told Neville to start this affair,” she said bluntly as she hoisted Albus Severus to the safety of her left hip, “and I’m glad he had the balls to do it. They were both Lupin-miserable after they broke up, Harry. There’s nothing fun or devious about that, or this. We were all getting along. It seemed possible that the horrors of war and division could actually fade away from our everyday lives then history came into play—it affected all of us, not just them. Ron and Draco **enjoy** hating each other. Ron rants on about Draco’s mistreatment of Neville but knows he would have chosen family over romance if our parents and the Grangers acted like that. I haven’t told Hermione they’re back together because she interprets my defence of the Malfoy marriage as prejudice against Muggles.”

Harry opened his mouth to protest and was silenced by a threatening glare from Ginny. James jumped up to grab his younger brother’s foot. Albus kicked the grasping hand away with both feet and a rattling belly laugh, so James did it again. The tension in the air was weakened by their innocent play and the three adults smiled in their direction. Harry took two toddler-friendly drink bottles from his coat pocket and handed one to each boy so Ginny wouldn’t have to raise her voice over their energetic chortles.

“Do you know how many communities were depopulated during Voldemort and Grindelwald’s campaigns Harry?” Ginny asked in a milder tone. “What’s the point in rebuilding Hogwarts if there aren’t enough children to attend? If Draco and Neville could knock each other up then I’d be clobbering Draco for marrying Astoria too. This way everyone wins—except Hannah but she’d been cheating anyway since Viktor Krum came to the Cauldron with Hermione. Come to playgroup one Tuesday afternoon when you get home from work, meet Astoria, and decide for yourself if she and Neville are merely Draco’s pawns.” Ginny’s glance in Neville’s direction proved that this entire speech had been for his benefit as well as her husband’s. She remained a loyal and supportive friend.

Harry muttered something around the word ‘immoral’ that finished with “can’t make up the rules as they go along!”

Ginny and Neville snorted. “Like you?” Ginny asked.

“Mr Rules-Don’t-Apply-To-Me For-I-Am-The-Chosen-One?” Neville taunted. Ginny grinned.

“Yeah, ha-ha, that’s different.” Harry knew he’d lost this one though. “Don’t suppose you’ll bother inviting us in for tea?” he asked Neville. It was apology enough.  


*~~~*

  
The handwriting was as elegant as the parchment it was written on.

_Forgive me for being so forward but I believe it is time we officially met._  
Lucius and Draco will be away this Thursday evening. Please attend the Manor from 6pm, for Narcissa’s comfort if not ours.  
A G-M 

Using Narcissa’s name had been strategically clever. Neville respected her efforts to turn the family’s life around and Draco would never forgive Neville for snubbing his mother. Neville replied with _‘As the Mrs Malfoy wish’_.

Topsy met him at the Manor gate and Neville politely admired her starched floral pillowcase as per tradition. Topsy reminisced as she escorted him to the Manor house. “Mistress Narcissa remains deeply saddened by events in Dye-Urn Alley.” Topsy added. “Please be kind to Mistress Astoria. Malfoy Manor is brightened by her presence and that of Master Scorpius. Topsy would be most distressed if we were made to leave.”

“Narcissa gave you to Astoria and Draco?” Hermione’s campaign to stop house-elves being classed as property had led to changes in Ministry and Magical laws. Apparently certain policies were being ignored by the Malfoys.

“No Master Neville. Topsy asked to serve her new Mistress and youngest Master,” Topsy said with pride. “Topsy is a valued house-elf, not a slave to be freed with clothes.”

Neville could imagine Draco saying ‘Up yours, Granger!’ to Hermione and the ensuing debate. Social occasions had never been dull with Draco by his side. He was smiling along memory lane when Narcissa greeted him. Her pale hand was extended politely. Neville took it and her other hand covered his as she smiled.

“Twice you have healed my son’s heart before it shrivelled and died in his chest. Thanks to my son’s wife I have a healthy and…”

Mrs Astoria Malfoy entered with a purple-faced and grizzling child in her arms.

“…mostly happy grandchild,” Narcissa continued. “Please excuse us.” She took Scorpius to an adjacent room.

“As if this isn’t awkward enough,” Astoria said in apology and offered Neville a seat. She adjusted her pale hair and tailored clothing before sitting opposite Neville. “I know who you are of course, Mr Longbottom. Would you mind if I don’t call you ‘Neville’ for now? There’s no need to address me as Mrs Malfoy,” she hastened to add. “Not only would that be difficult for you, I still feel that title rightfully belongs to Cissy.”

“Thank you. Ginny Potter speaks highly of you,” Neville added to avoid causing offense with a pause. This seemed to be a good place to start because Astoria smiled and sat a little less stiffly in her chair. Neville could not relax just yet.

“I hope our meeting deliberately will be a once only event, Mr Longbottom. Draco finds it problematic enough trying to balance the important elements of his life without them colliding and overlapping. He is my dearest friend, the father of my child, and I care for him deeply—but I can never love him the way you do. Nor does he want me to.”

Neville sat forward with an elbow on each knee and his hands dangling between. “I know what I’m asking Draco to do is selfish but I can’t help feeling he was forcibly stolen from me. Not by you,” he assured Astoria, “which is what made seeing you—his wife—and his son together in Honeydukes so... not alarming, unpleasant. Past decisions were made to impress Lucius and protect Narcissa…”

“Particularly his mistakes,” Astoria agreed. “I saw changes in Draco too, don’t forget. All of Slytherin House expected Draco to be made Head Boy when Snape became Headmaster.”

“The rest of us were equally surprised when he wasn’t.”

“Theodore was the sensible option. He’s far less emotional. More importantly, Draco didn’t **care** that he hadn’t become Head Boy. I’d seen and heard Draco Malfoy remind us how good he was every time he entered a room for five years. I wasn’t terrified of the Dark Lord or the Order of the Phoenix until Draco stopped bragging. He was **afraid** Mr Longbottom. For him to be too scared to make up a boastful lie… Other children of Death Eaters believed Draco’s fear originated with his father’s fall from grace. Those of us unrelated to servants of the Dark Lord believed otherwise and felt stranded. Whose side should we be on? I no longer sought victory for Voldemort.”

Astoria paused as Topsy entered with a laden tea tray then disapparated without speaking. No order had been given for Topsy to do either. No wonder she was so highly valued by the family she served.

“Draco hated the man, even then,” Neville assured Astoria. “Though he normally says ‘thing’, ‘it’ or ‘that abomination’ to describe Voldemort.”

“I know. He also pulls the most unattractive faces.” Astoria frowned with mild amusement whereas Neville grinned in open adoration.

“Habits like that are the things I miss most since we stopped living together.”

Astoria subtly shifted the conversation without changing topic altogether. “I thought those photos in the Prophet were a rather mean and silly joke, even for Pansy. Daphne insisted they were genuine and threatened to cut me from her wedding party if I mentioned it. Draco was a glum best man the day my sister married his friend. Every smile was forced or tinged with sadness, which prompted me to ask what bothered him. We began to talk about matters previously left unsaid and by the end of the night it felt like we’d been best friends from birth.” Her timid smile grew in the warmth of Neville’s larger one.

“I’m glad you succeeded in giving him a social life. Draco felt friendless and alone for years after the war. I tried to change that.” Neville shrugged to show his high failure rate. “Once we broke up he wanted nothing more to do with my lot.”

They nodded in polite and awkward silence.

“He hums when he sees you. Even if you’re just crossing a street two blocks away.” Astoria copied the pattern rather negligently, as though something so profound was unimportant.

Neville snapped to attention. His mother hummed that exact melody since he was three years old.

“He used to stop abruptly when he knew he was doing it. Now he just lets it go. Anytime my husband starts humming, Narcissa and I know he’s thinking of you. We haven’t mentioned it to Lucius.”

“That’s not what startled me,” Neville admitted. He couldn’t talk about his parents with her. “Astoria, I don’t want to break your family apart but I **need** Draco in my life. Not for sex, not only for sex, it’s just… He’s… Everything is wrong without him.”

“Draco says precisely the same about you, pause for pause. Unfortunately, here is where we hit a major snag. I don’t want you near my son. Scorpius should never be part of this or bear the stigma of a publicly unfaithful father. Are you willing to stay in the shadows and have no-one know about you and Draco? Apart from those who already know, of course. We can’t precisely un-tell Ginny and Narcissa.”

“Or Luna,” Neville added in agreement. 

“Luna Lovegood? The Quibbler queen knows?”

“Tread carefully Astoria. Draco and I are rather fond of Luna,” Narcissa warned in cushioned tones from the doorway.

“Sorry Cissy.”

Narcissa stood Scorpius on the floor. The youngest Malfoy immediately slid to his knees and crawled to Astoria. Mother and grandmother showered him in praise. Scorpius was a lot happier now.

Neville stared as Astoria lifted her son onto her lap— **Draco’s** son. “What kind of parent is Draco?” he asked with a dry mouth.

“Obsessive,” Astoria replied.

“Adorable,” Narcissa said tenderly. “And obsessive,” she added wryly.

Neville wished he was wearing a watch so he could look at it before standing abruptly and declaring he had to go. “I… ah… best be leaving. Thank you Astoria, Narcissa. I’ll see myself out.”

Scorpius Malfoy chortled at something once Neville’s back was turned. Neville bit back tears of sorrow and rage. He’d been fooling himself.  


*~~~*

  
The Howler found him in greenhouse five.

“WHY WON’T YOU ANSWER MY OWLS YOU PRICK?”

Students stifled their amusement behind soil-covered gloves. Pomona Sprout stared at Neville with eyes rounder than her girth.

“I… Sorry. Guess I’d better respond to some mail before he sends another one.”

Pomona nodded silently. Her expression hadn’t changed.

Draco stood on the stoop to Neville’s house. “I knew that would work. Let’s get straight to the point: do you love me or not?”

Neville avoided his eye and shoved past him to get to the front door. Manipulative, arrogant…

“Not. Fine. I’ll tell Father his writ to the Wizengamot supporting my claim for divorce is no longer necessary. Thanks for letting me know before I spent months finding a way around it you CALLOUS ARSE!”

Draco stomped down one stair. He didn’t make it down the second before Neville snatched his arm.

“I love you. I can’t compete with a baby and I gave up.” He was ashamed to admit it and couldn’t look Draco in the eye.

“ _Compete?_ ” Draco pulled his arm free. “This isn’t the Triwizard Tournament. I’m not a shiny cup!”

“That isn’t what…”

Draco kept raging over the top of him. “You’re the one who refused to accept staying apart was for the best. You pursued me after I was married. We were **both** married. After years of being soul-crushed by every enormous and heartbreaking obstacle, I finally agree that life together is a vital part of **our** existence and you GIVE UP?”

“No.” Neville tried to put his arms around Draco and stop him leaving. Draco pushed him away. Neville drew his wand. “Don’t you walk away from me again, Draco Malfoy! LOOK AT ME!” he shouted in angry desperation.

Pomona Sprout and her students pressed their faces against the windows of the nearest greenhouse but Neville didn’t care because Draco turned to look at him too. Neville dropped his wand to the ground then raised his arms in surrender.

“I give up Draco. Whatever compromises you need me to make, whatever deals need to be struck with your wife so you don’t lose your son, I’ll do it. Please.”

A folded sheaf of parchment was thrust at him. “Read then sign this and **never** ignore me again.” Draco frowned as his gaze wandered. “School still standing?” he asked warily.

“Barely,” Neville replied. His voice carried that tremor familiar to making up after a large fight.

Draco looked down at his feet. “If I step here,” he nudged a stone of Neville’s cobbled path, “I won’t end up in Samoa, or on Neptune, or somewhere other than here, will I?”

“I hope not. If so, send me another Howler and I’ll bring you back.”

Draco cautiously began shifting his weight to a different part of the path.

Neville smiled crookedly. “Don’t try being a smart-arse and apparating away then back again,” he warned.

“Still can’t apparate inside school grounds?” Draco asked as though he hoped that had changed in intervening years. Neville grinned at him. “Phooey,” Draco said. His prank was ruined. He smiled at Neville then casually strode along.

Neville saw no point in returning to a greenhouse full of enquiring faces and unlocked his door. “Um, Draco? Take a look at this.” Everything inside his house was now made of cut and folded paper or card. The curtains were tissue paper, his kitchen sink lined with tin-foil. Even the fruit had been converted.

“Scrunched up crepe,” Draco said with amazement as he picked up a pear. Then he laughed. “Turn the tap on.”

Instead of water, strips of clear cellophane dangled from the spout. Neville ran his fingers through it. “We’ve really outdone ourselves this time.”

“We haven’t fought like that since the lock-in. We’re surrounded by errant magic thanks to being in a school of untrained witches and wizards. Add that to our natural gift for transfigurative nonsense and voila.” Draco gestured with open arms, clearly impressed by the result of their latest outburst.

“Help me set it right?”

“Show Mother and Luna first, they’ll love it. **_I_** love it.” Draco’s enthusiasm found its way to Neville and they grinned at each other.  


*~~~*

  
Hermione overheard Luna telling Ginny to come along to see the paper house and so asked to join them. Narcissa invited Astoria and Neville’s transfigured home was soon overrun by exclaiming witches carrying babies. He and Draco stood in a corner to silently regret mentioning the effects of their latest argument. Regret ran out the door when Hermione held her daughter Rose’s hand under the tap and cellophane tickled the baby’s hand instead of water. Rose’s giggles of curiosity drew the attention of James, Scorpius and Albus. James immediately ran over to look then began showing off when he noticed everyone was watching him.

“Honestly, that boy’s worse than Ron,” Ginny said in fond irritation.

“I wish your mum was here too,” Draco told Neville beneath the babble of noise.

Neville had to hold him close and kiss him for that. Two things happened that turned everything to chaos. Dangling cellophane became running water, not so good in a foil-lined sink made of cardboard, and Neville spotted his ex-wife Hannah by the open front door. The clutch of mothers dealt with the increasingly soggy kitchen sink while the divorced couple stared at each other.

“Hello Neville, Hermione…”

“Didn’t mention this was your house, sorry Neville,” Hermione called her apology while trying to keep merrily squealing children out of the spray.

“Or that you’d be here with him,” Hannah added. She avoided looking at Draco. “Things seem to be going well for you. Apart from,” Hannah glanced toward the messy, noise-filled section of the tiny house and briefly fought back a smile. “Oh dear,” she said with a fractured giggle. “Would you ladies like some help?”

“We’d love some!” Astoria and Hermione called back in harmony. Hannah rushed to their aid.

“All the Houses are working together again,” Luna exclaimed brightly. “You can really feel the School Spirit, like when we fixed the Great Hall.”

That wasn’t all Neville felt. He and Hannah had somehow made their peace without either party needing to apologise. None of this oddity would have happened without Draco’s Howler starting it all off.

“I love you,” Neville told him. He moved in for another kiss.

“Not in front of the wives. I think you’ll find that on page…”

Neville inserted his tongue into Draco’s open mouth, held him tight and kissed him like they’d die if they stopped. They became so breathless that Neville was in danger of dying if they **didn’t** stop. “Don’t care because one, I love you so much that weird stuff happens whenever we fight, followed by weirder stuff when we make up. Two, you taste terrific. Three, I haven’t signed anything yet. Our wives carry wands, Draco. If they have a problem with me showing you affection they can jinx my arse.”

“Don’t tempt them,” Draco warned him. Rather than pull away he snuck a kiss to Neville’s neck.

“All fixed.” Narcissa referred to more than the kitchen and smiled at the lack of space between the adult wizards. “Time to go home, Astoria.”

“Just a moment.” Astoria handed a saturated yet entirely happy Scorpius to her husband. “This is your fault.”

Draco accepted the bundle willingly and blow-dried the baby with his wand. Scorpius thought it was fabulous and tried to catch the warm air while closing his eyes against it. “I notice any time Scorpius is a terror it’s my fault, otherwise he’s Mother’s perfect angel.”

“Of course,” the mothers of sons chorused.

“I’m glad we didn’t have children,” Hannah said to Neville. He nodded vigorously and avoiding Draco’s enquiring stare became a priority.

Neville was spared by Professor McGonagall’s dramatic entrance.

“This is a school Mr Longbottom, not a tourist attraction. Security protocols exist for the protection of our students. Surely you and Mr Malfoy understand why better than anyone else. Shoo, all of you.”  


*~~~*

  
Neville pondered the potency of children’s laughter as he and Professor Sprout discussed responses of plants to emotional stimuli.

“Oh indeed!” Pomona exclaimed when he asked if it made a difference in the school nurseries. “We often need to adjust timetables so the classes are emotionally balanced. Certain personality types have greater influence on particular plants as well. Having pranksters like the Weasley twins or Goyle and Malfoy around pubescent Mandrakes would be disastrous. We’d never get the blighters to stay in their pots!”

Pomona summoned a tome from her personal library. “See here, article 3.19, about a Muggle scientist who believes regular exposure to happy children causes houseplants to thrive. Not entirely nonsense. If those Death Eaters hadn’t baited her family at the Quidditch World Cup the year of the Triwizard Tournament, the Ministry of Magic would never have discovered her work. The poor gal didn’t have the resources we do but her research would provide a nice basis for a dissertation.” Professor Sprout wore the same persuasive smile she and Professor Lupin used to encourage Neville during Third Year, the one that meant ‘Go on, I know you’ll be brilliant at this.’ “Pay particular attention to the sections where she conducted the same experiments on elderly Muggles and comatose patients. Laughter sometimes **is** the best medicine. It’s almost a shame Voldemort’s lot didn’t harass her the first time.”  


*~~~*

  
Visits with his parents had become opportunities to talk about whatever was on his mind and work through problems without well-meant interference. If Neville needed advice he confided in friends. When he needed to sift through thoughts and emotions he spoke to Mum. His head was full as he climbed the stairs to the fourth floor, leaving just enough room to realise someone else had a similar idea.

“Things were finally falling into place, so I thought.”

Draco? Neville paused at the closed curtain. Something soft and jingly rolled across the floor, followed by a baby’s chortle. He heard a slow shuffle a moment before the soft jingles made their return journey.

“Say ‘thank you’ Scorpius,” Draco prompted.

“Koo.”

“Good boy,” Draco said proudly.

“Good boy, our boy,” said Alice.

“Your boy Neville is the very best. He’s angry about following hospital rules when he was younger. As though it’s his fault they got it wrong and you didn’t get better. I don’t know if that caused his recent aversion to children or whether my other life didn’t seem real before he actually saw me with my son.”

Neville swallowed several lumps in his throat as Draco paused to shake the jingling object for Scorpius. His chest tightened when Draco continued in a lost tone. “He used to promise that we’d be bonded, whether our families accepted or rejected our relationship, and I believed him. But now… he sees me differently because of Scorpius. Owl after owl went unanswered and I suspected Neville changed his mind. Our usually dramatic confrontation put that fear to rest, until he saw me behave like a father. Not like my father… Perhaps he prefers me as a vindictive, insecure arsehole. I think… Do you turn everything inward because it’s easier than facing the change in Neville’s eyes now he only sees a stranger when he looks at you?” There was another pause. “No, don’t you cry too. I’m sorry...”

“Boy?” Alice sounded like she was pleading. Neville was already fighting tears. He should have gone in immediately instead of stopping to listen on this side of the curtain.

“I don’t know if we should. What if the Healers were partially right? He’d never forgive me for raising a wand against you to protect my son.”

Neville spoke through the curtain. “I’ll do it if necessary. Accio Scorpius if you need to Draco, but please, let Mum hold a baby again.”

“How long have you been…?” Draco declared angrily as Neville entered the room.

“Not the time Draco.”

“Alright then, but remember this is your idea.”

“Unless it turns out to be brilliant and then it was yours from the start,” Neville replied.

“Boy?” Alice asked again, reaching desperately toward Scorpius. Frank stared at his wife’s grasping hands. Every adult’s spine tensed as the blond child was deposited in her lap. Alice pressed her cheek to the top of Scorpius Malfoy’s head and inhaled deeply while cuddling him gently. Her familiar hum was brighter yet sadder at the same time.

Scorpius clutched a ball made of brightly coloured felt. It made no sound as he shook it. He offered it to Alice with a frown. Alice held it with care. “Gentle,” she said and gave it a shake. The bells inside chimed.

Scorpius stared as though she’d performed momentous magic and reached for the ball. “Koo,” he said when she gave it back. He shook it and smiled proudly at Draco when it jingled.

“Clever boy,” Draco said with affectionate enthusiasm and clapped his hands. Scorpius shook the ball again. This time he laughed when his father clapped.

Alice smiled at the baby, then at her son. “Good Boy,” she said proudly to Neville.

“Hi Mum,” he said, feeling slightly ridiculous about being left out before now.

Alice stared curiously at Draco’s face as he lifted Scorpius off her lap. “Dray?” she asked.

“Yeah Mum, that’s Dray.” Neville’s voice cracked.

“Good,” she said and nodded sternly. It was like Ginny hint, hinting in the greenhouse almost two years ago.

“Yes Mum.” He looked into pale grey eyes, daring Draco to see why he couldn’t be seen the same way. “Taking you from Scorpius would make me as bad as Bellatrix. I hadn’t realised how much you’d changed and wasn’t sure I fit in your life anymore.” Neville reached for Draco’s hand and was surprised at how tightly Draco linked their fingers together.

“I’ve been making room to ensure you do, you tit. If you bothered reading my owls you’d know that.” Draco’s snippy mutter was comfortably familiar. “I thought you’d be impressed by my recent lack of cowardice but you clearly prefer me lost and pathetic so you can play gallant hero.”

Neville’s nose rested on Draco’s cheekbone after Neville kissed his face. “Nothing I witnessed today was cowardly or pathetic. I am **thoroughly** impressed.”

Draco adjusted his hold on Scorpius so he could kiss Neville’s mouth. It was over quickly because Scorpius vigorously hit Neville with the jingly ball. “Get used to it child,” Draco tapped his son under the chin. Scorpius glowered. Draco ignored his infant scowl. “I’m not giving either of you up. Once you’ve finished here, read those papers I gave you. No doubt you’ll seek changes before agreeing to anything. Come to the Manor so we can negotiate with the wife. Bring Luna for moral support if you wish, Augusta too. Your gran can’t frighten me off again.”

After saying goodbye to Draco, Neville sat between his parents. He held one hand from each in his and rested his head on Alice’s shoulder. When she began to hum, he joined in. “Love you Mum,” he said with a kiss for her cheek. Frank’s other hand patted Neville’s. His eyes were brighter and the colour of his cheeks healthier but Neville noticed his father moved with increasing difficulty. Frank’s slipper-shod feet hadn’t moved at all.

“Are you alright?” Neville asked. Fear pinched the question and Frank’s eyes began to glaze. Neville immediately began telling both parents about the ridiculous paper house, injecting the story with as much as humour as possible. His father’s retreat stopped. Neville’s heart beat faster. He related as many funny anecdotes as he could before visiting hours were over, earning more than one smile or squeeze of fingers from either parent in the process.

“They’re getting better,” he told Gran with happy excitement. The sadness in his grandmother’s eyes confused him.

“Your parents’ minds are healing, slowly, but physically…” Augusta did not whimper or wring her hands. “Before you turn this into another argument Neville, you should understand that I am first and foremost a mother. Frank may be your father but he has always, always been my son. That withered man was once a little boy who ran home from school or his friend’s house then followed me or your grandad everywhere so he could talk our ears off about what he’d been up to. Frank was such a vibrant, moral young man.”

Neville made no effort to interrupt or return home as Gran described Frank’s boyhood antics, his courtship of Alice, their fearful excitement when they discovered Alice was pregnant, Augusta’s personal joy the first time Frank let her hold his son—Neville. He had never seen his grandmother so cheerfully vital.

“You had no choice but to become a sedate child. You certainly didn’t start out that way! Until recently I failed to see how that stunted your development. From the moment you learned to move you’d be off, laughing as Frank or Alice gave chase because you knew the real fun would begin once you were caught. I missed the **noise** associated with having a small boy around the house. But I wanted Frank to be able to watch you grow and did as the Healers instructed. Now, his life may be shortened because you’ve rekindled his spirit,” Gran warned Neville with a firm hand on his knee. The emotional landslide hit Neville quicker and harder than the knowledge his grandmother shared. “I intended to take that knowledge to my grave so you wouldn’t feel guilty, because you **shouldn’t** feel guilty. Be proud Neville. The difference your actions have made… It is the quality of life that matters, not longevity. It seems you have a gift for returning lost sons to grieving mothers. If Draco Malfoy makes you feel happy and whole…”

“He does Gran. Our attitudes toward each other couldn’t be any more different to when we were at school,” Neville added with a soft chuckle of amazement. Cutting insults had become teasing terms of affection to acknowledge the unexpected evolution of their relationship. “Draco would soothe away the worst nightmares by stroking my forehead and murmuring complicated phrases that I thought were protective spells. He’d actually been reciting how and why we fell in love, in German.”

The stubborn stiffness left Gran’s features as she listened to Neville’s description of his relationship with Draco and heard the waves of emotion crashing through it. “Most of my life I wondered if I’d ever be happy, if I’d done something to deserve the silent loneliness that seemed to fill my days. Now everything’s coming together and I wonder what I’ve done right.” Neville grinned while flicking through the stack of papers Draco spent months preparing. “I gave up on the pursuit of ‘us’ but he didn’t.” Neville ran out of words.

“Then I apologise for my earlier interference and shall endeavour to let history remain in the past.” Augusta tilted her face so her grandson could kiss her goodbye. “Although, if that boy runs out on you again I shall hit him with a hex he will never forget.”  


*~~~*

  
Neville had never seen Narcissa so coldly proud. Gran was just as bad. Bringing her to Malfoy Manor had clearly been a mistake.

“You both look like Scorpius filled a nappy directly under your nose,” Draco muttered while stirring more sugar into his tea. Neville choked on a biscuit by stifling a laugh.

The matriarchs glanced in their direction with mutual disdain. Augusta lifted her handbag onto her lap. “It is as I suspected from the start. Draco may see more than blood status when he looks at Neville but that isn’t so for the rest of you.”

Narcissa placed her spoon on the saucer without a sound. “Whereas you see nothing but Death Eater in regards to us. I never bore the Dark Mark and I do not condone my sister’s behaviour. Unforgiveable Curses require a pitiful lack of imagination and finesse. Vulgar fanatics have vandalised noble houses from the inside until the combination of pure blood and integrity has become a rarity.” Narcissa’s attitude lost its chill as she smiled toward Neville. “Your grandson speaks with a soft, yet determined and authoritative voice.”

“Unless you piss him off,” Draco murmured. “Then he turns purple with rage and swears like a Muggle while trying to decapitate you with his fingernails.”

“That’s only when **you** piss me off,” Neville replied. “Not even Voldemort got up my nose like you do.”

Draco chuckled. Neville did too. Narcissa sighed over their immaturity. Astoria and Augusta observed in silence.

“In truth our opinion is irrelevant,” Narcissa added with a resigned smile. Her hands remained in her lap as she turned both palms up in defeat. “Disapproval, duels, marriages and time have not kept them apart because nothing can. Their past, present, and future converged into a point as they held hands in the Room of All Seasons. It is not blood that binds them. It is magic and love. Argue with those if you will.”

Gran tucked her handbag beside her. “I will support Neville’s decision. He has proven me wrong before. I must insist on one change to this strange agreement.” She stared at Astoria. “Your husband has been visiting my son and it seems a connection has formed between my daughter-in-law and your child Scorpius. The boy can never be mistaken for Neville’s, even his parents aren’t that insane, but they acknowledge Draco as Neville’s partner and recognise Scorpius as Draco’s son. They will not be with us much longer. It may not be fair to ask the child to atone for his great-aunt’s actions but my grandson’s life has never been fair.” Gran glared at Narcissa. “You owe us this.”

“Draco?” Narcissa calmly asked her son’s opinion.

“Visiting the ward is more pleasant for Scorpius than visiting Father in Azkaban was for me although I reserve the right to cease all contact if my son is at risk.”

“Acceptable.” Gran nodded brusquely before Neville or Astoria could respond.

“Draco, I must protest,” Astoria threatened.

“Then come too. We can renegotiate after that.”

Neville quietly asked Draco not to anger his wife until everything was settled.

“Scorpius should know what our ancestors were capable of so he won’t make my mistake and emulate the wrong ones.”

“You’re more like Narcissa than Bellatrix,” Neville assured him.

“I want him to think so too.”

That seemed to convince Astoria. Her permission was conditional though. “No intimate behaviour in my son’s presence, no matter how innocent. Scorpius must never doubt that he is cherished by both parents and that **we** are his family.”

Draco agreed.  


*~~~*

  
There were many bonding ceremonies and Neville carefully read through the requirements and outcome of each. Draco had researched several options extensively and made preparations for his deathless divorce while Neville sulked because he’d believed Draco would never choose him over the wife and child that granted acceptance within the pureblood community. Neville raised the topic of bonding in the first place and was determined to take it from here.

He settled on the most traditional and romantic yet flexible form of bondage between two wizards. It applied only to purebloods which appealed to Draco’s innate prejudices and unlike similar spells did not require sacrificing children born to either wizard outside the bonded union, which appealed to everyone. It was so ancient it allowed both wizards to take a pureblood witch to wife for purely procreative purposes.

“Excellent, since it turns out deathless divorce isn’t so deathless. What of the wives?” Draco’s head asked through the fireplace in Neville’s house.

Neville sat cross-legged in front of the hearth and scrolled through his notes until he found the yellow tag. “Free to marry another witch providing she be of equal blood or purer.”

“Ha! Muggles are so backward.”

Neville agreed. “But only in this particular instance.”

Draco rolled his eyes. Neville smiled and explained that there were two versions. The most commonly practiced joined lovers until death they did part, permitting the widowed partner to bond with another after a suitable mourning period. The other, original commitment prevented the survivor binding to anyone else.

“That’s the one I want,” Neville admitted. The scroll pooled in the cradle of his lap as he rested his elbows on his knees. “None of these bonds will forge correctly if we don’t agree.”

“Freely entering slavery together seems soul-deep kinky.” Draco paused for thought then flashed Neville a smile. “I like it. Have Granger look for loopholes in that permanent one you’re so set on. If there’s no nasty surprises attached then we’ll go for that.”

Neville’s heart beat echoed loudly as though a dragon filled the room. “You’re taking this very calmly.”

“On the contrary, I’m so agitated it merely appears blasé on the visible spectrum. Don’t muck this up Longbottom.”  


*~~~*

  
Draco continued living at Malfoy Manor at the opposite end of the same wing as his wife with their son’s rooms directly between. He was a father first, lover second, and almost wore himself thin trying to be fair to both roles.

Astoria and Scorpius would return from their stay at the Greengrass’s in a few hours. Neville carefully woke Draco with a kiss to his shoulder. “You have to go home soon,” he said reluctantly.

“Not yet,” Draco replied and wedged his body further under Neville’s. He was wonderfully warm and entirely, enticingly naked so Neville gave him what he wanted.

Draco’s knuckles bent up as he clutched at the edge of the mattress and Neville sucked them into his mouth while thrusting forward deep enough to crush both their heads against the headboard. Draco’s groans of approval rumbled through their united bodies. Neville let his weight rest on Draco and directed all effort to the movement of his hips. The bed springs made almost as much noise as Draco which added magnificent emphasis to their intimate percussion. Draco’s hiss that he was about to come prompted Neville’s climax to announce its arrival with a grunt. Draco came two staccato beats later.

Neville tucked some of Draco’s sweaty hair behind an ear and pressed his forehead to Draco’s temple. “I wish there was time to watch the blush leave your skin before you go,” he whispered mournfully against Draco’s cheekbone. “I could spend my nights off with you. We’ll be abiding by the agreement as long as Scorpius doesn’t come into your bedroom and I don’t leave it.”

“That is incredibly tempting,” Draco said with a languid stretch. “We may spend more time together now but I still miss you through the day. We talked so much about nothing, anything and everything in between.”

“I didn’t appreciate you as much then,” Neville admitted while doodling along Draco’s spine.

Draco lifted an eyebrow. “Really?” he asked.

“I’d been muffled in countless layers of cotton wool since my parents were attacked. You began tearing that swaddling to shreds before I reached Hogwarts. Even when I was fragile you never treated me that way, rude and impudent imp!” Neville pinched Draco’s ticklish places with a vengeance. Draco grimaced and squirmed while slapping him away. Neville toned it down. “I didn’t understand how that prepared me for what lay ahead. That doesn’t condone your being a prick,” he added as Draco smirked.

Draco laughed then kissed Neville goodbye, rolled out of bed and stepped into the Room of Requirement’s green-lit fireplace as the clock struck noon. He was still naked.

“I love that man!” Neville told the ceiling. The Room of Requirement seemed to agree because the drapes pulled back to reveal two miniature white peach trees growing in tubs on a new balcony. Their blossoms sweetened the sun-warmed breeze. “What makes us so special?” he asked in awe. The door to the Room of All Seasons appeared but Neville didn’t understand what that meant.  


*~~~*

  
Neville’s friends became regular visitors to the residential ward of St Mungo’s to test his child therapy theory. Luna invented a musical instrument specifically to engage Neville’s parents and promised to bring it to the ward for a debut performance once she’d decided how many strings it should have and whether the best sound was produced by blowing through the horn at one end or hitting it. Draco insisted on being present, sure to be entertained by the mere sight of this thing. He wasn’t disappointed. Neville took several photos of Luna playing the Shnoz-leder-phone, his parents’ astonished reactions, and Draco’s hilarity. Luna let Alice hold the unique instrument. Neville laughed loudest of all when his mother smiled slyly before insistently handing it to Draco. “Dray,” she commanded.

“Ah, no thank you Mrs Longbottom. I ah, have to…” and he fled.

Frank laughed a single “Ha!” and tapped his fingers against his thighs as applause. He couldn’t lift or turn his arms anymore but that didn’t dull the day. His eyes were bright, joyful and turned directly on his son. Neville took a photo of his father’s vibrant, happy face then Luna took one of father and son together.

Neville experienced the same excitement when going through the photos with Gran. She rolled her eyes at Luna and Draco. He thought she might cry over the one of her son but instead she beamed proudly at her grandson.

“This is the Frank who apparated onto our bed at 4:27am to tell us he’d found the witch he was going to marry before listing why we were sure to love Alice. He was correct on all counts.” Gran said nothing when she reached the picture Luna took. She tapped it twice with her wand and created a perfect copy on either side. She enlarged the first copy and hung it over her mantle then reduced the second and tucked it into her signature red handbag before handing the original back to Neville. “Now I can see my boys smile wherever I go.”  


*~~~*

  
Saturday nights were Neville’s favourite because twice a month he woke up on Sunday to a cup of tea on the bedside table and the sounds of rustling newspaper whether in his bed or Draco’s. Tea, paper and breakfast in bed formed the strongest link between their present relationship and the past. It was domestic, ordinary and nice.

“Like you,” Draco said around his busy toothbrush with a smile. He spat, rinsed, kissed Neville goodbye and went home.

Sunday nights were the worst, always.  


*~~~*

  
Narcissa asked Neville how he was coping. Neville asked if Astoria had complained about the current arrangement.

“No. Draco ensures they spend a wealth of time together as a family. Your father’s continued decline has him concerned.”

“Draco helps bring my parents to life,” Neville assured her. “Three Death Eaters stole a normal life from them, from us, and those people are dead. I feel a certain justice in that and a great deal of peace that I played no part in those deaths.”

“I believe you do,” Narcissa conceded and respected him for it.  


*~~~*

  
Ginny brought her sons and niece to bring laughter and chaos to the Longbottoms. She and Hermione were pregnant again. “Boy or girl, this is definitely the last,” Ginny said as Alice put an ear to her mid-term womb. “Harry’s done this for all three. At least your mum doesn’t waffle on to whoever’s inside about playing quidditch for Gryffindor with Oliver Wood. Harry Potter, Chosen One, and his favourite bragging point centres on being seeker for Gryffindor! It’s sadly pathetic.” Ginny said it fondly though.

Alice pointed at Frank and rolled her eyes, implying her husband was the same. Augusta voiced her agreement. Frank made a scoffing sound. Neville grinned. This simple level of communication proved that his parents understood and interacted with their environment. Frank no longer stared aimlessly at walls during visits but focussed directly on his guests. He laughed, once and abruptly at cheeky James. Augusta smothered a sob with her hand. “They planned on having four children. It didn’t matter how many of each so long as there were four. They put off getting pregnant again once the Potters went into hiding. Safe decision in light of what happened next,” Augusta said with a nod of approval. “I’m not denying that this isn’t helping.” She gestured to the happily playing children—adult and toddler alike. “But can only imagine how much crueller that witch would have been…!” Augusta ground her teeth angrily.

Neville imagined it too. Ginny swiftly lightened the mood by mentioning Luna and her Shnoz-leder-phone. Luna, Ginny and their children brightened the ward but Neville noticed the most dramatic changes in his parents when Draco came with Scorpius. Alice hummed and spoke to the fair-haired toddler but not the others.

“Why is that?” Neville asked Draco while watching his parents and Scorpius interact. The deterioration of Alice’s limbs became evident when she could no longer kick the jingling felt ball along the floor to Scorpius. Neville and Draco refused to verbally acknowledge it.

“Yours,” Alice replied. Maybe hope had exaggerated the recovery of his parents’ wits.

“No Mum. He can’t be. He isn’t.”

“ **He** is,” she insisted with a smile at Draco. “Nev-ille.” Alice frowned at the gap between syllables then repeated his name until sounded smooth and natural. “Dray and Neville—love is strong, e-easily seen and felt.”

“Like ours,” Frank said and tried to turn his head to gaze at his wife. His eyes blinked widely in alarm. Neville stared and knelt before him.

“Draco, send a patronus to Gran and take Scorpius home.”

Draco paused only to kiss the back of Neville’s neck before obeying his emotional whisper. Gran arrived almost immediately and helped Neville turn her son’s chair to face the woman he loved.

“Proud,” Frank said insistently to Neville. He had more to say but his lips refused to move again. Alice reached across their immobile laps to hold her husband’s hands. Augusta perched on the arm of his chair with an arm across his shoulders. Neville knelt beside both parents. His hands covered theirs. He watched his father’s eyes as Frank let his love for Alice smother his fear of death.

“Bye-bye,” Alice said sweetly and patted his hands before beginning to hum.

Frank drew his final breath…  


*~~~*

  
“No!” Neville yelled at his gran. “Mum will be gone too, soon, then you. My life has been one interminable funeral service while my parents were still alive! I’m not sitting through two of the ruddy things and hearing the exact same things said. A combined service once Mum’s gone and that’s final.”

“Then you leave me no choice.” Augusta tossed a handful of floo-powder into the fire. Draco stepped into her drawing room. “He won’t listen,” Augusta told him and then left them alone.

“You said you’d talk to her,” Neville said accusingly. Draco knew his feelings on this.

“And I did. She had one son Neville. As much as she loves you, you are his son not hers. Your gran has the support of her few surviving friends but it’s yours she needs. Close your eyes and stick your fingers in your ears if you have to. Just be there to hold her hand and pass the hanky. Potter’s loaning me his invisibility cloak so I can support you without offending anyone. There are conditions of course. He doesn’t trust me for some reason.”

“I can’t believe Gran’s using you against me!”

“Every Boggart that sees me turns into your gran.”

Indignant anger turned to curiosity. “How do you get rid of them?”

“By assuming it’s actually your gran. Made the last one cry by offering it a cup of tea,” Draco quipped. Neville was astonished. “So, we’re going to the service tomorrow?”

Neville nodded.

The service was awful, as expected. It would have been unbearable without Draco’s warm yet invisible presence beside him. Gran couldn’t have coped without Neville’s arm around her. He whispered apologies, regrets, sympathy and love. She nodded silently. He’d never seen her speechless before. It broke his heart. A squeeze from Draco’s hand fixed it, a bit.  


*~~~*

  
Draco and Hermione argued loudly at the door of the ward over Neville’s extended leave from Hogwarts. “He asked to move both parents to Augusta’s weeks ago and the healers said no. No, they’d rather he join her here until…”

“This has been her home for decades,” Hermione countered. “No-one can predict how she’d react to being moved.”

“We’ve made the Room identical. Augusta’s house and the Hogwarts infirmary can be accessed directly. This is their last chance to live as a family,” Draco hissed. “Bellatrix knew precisely how those curses would work…”

Neville jumped when his mum snappily shouted “Dray!”

“…this is as close to countering it that we can get.”

Alice repeated her command until Neville opened the curtain. Alice pointed to the floor in front of her. Draco muttered about getting in trouble with the mother-in-law and stood on the indicated spot. Alice pointed again and he knelt. Hermione stared. Alice gently touched Draco beneath one eye. “More Sirius and Regulus than Bellatrix,” she told him firmly. Draco recoiled in horror.

“She knows!” Hermione hissed while Neville thought ‘Oh shit!’

“Not blind or stupid. Just broken and slow,” Alice said hotly though her words were staggered and determined. “Frank died before see Neville and Dray bound. Not me. I see.” Her voice softened and she tapped her heart as she looked from Neville to Draco. “I see boys bound in love.”

“Okay Mum,” Neville assured her. Draco nodded. Then Alice smiled.  


*~~~*

  
The staff of the permanent residents’ ward could not refuse Neville and Augusta’s request to remove Alice from the hospital for a day, not when the patient in question repeated “I go” in a stern voice. Alice couldn’t move her hands so her favourite nurse dressed her for the occasion.

“You look beautiful Mum,” Neville told her.

“Old,” Alice complained.

“Old does not automatically equal ugly, Alice,” Augusta replied snippily.

Alice’s lips quirked and Neville knew his mother was laughing at Gran. Neville placed the specially fashioned portkey around his mother’s neck. He and Gran touched the pendant before it began to glow and the three were transported to the Room of All Seasons where Neville’s friends, Draco’s family and Draco were waiting for them. The room had expanded to fit everyone in.

The chief warlock of the Wizengamot officiated over the bonding ceremony. Witnesses for both partners were selected to perform the enchantments that would seal Neville to Draco for eternity. And it was done. The process to finalise the most ponderous decision of their lives turned out to be disappointingly simple.

The Hogwarts house-elves provided a celebration feast which magically appeared on the table created by the bound couple’s first passionate kiss. There was now a cupboard full of matching chairs so no guest was forced to stand. Lucius surprised everyone by making the first toast.

“To hope,” he said simply and received a warm kiss from Narcissa as he sat back down.

“To love,” Alice said from her seat.

“To family,” said Astoria.

“To friends,” said Hannah.

“And to two people we never suspected would combine all four,” offered Ginny.

“Now the new age of Hogwarts truly begins,” Luna said enigmatically. Everyone was too eager to celebrate to interpret her comment.  


*~~~*

  
“Well that didn’t live up to its destructive potential,” Draco said with breathless relief as he flopped backward onto the grand bed the Room of Requirement provided especially for this evening.

“Having the ceremony here was a touch of genius. Nobody dared tick Hogwarts off by being a dick.”

Draco stretched one arm across the bed in Neville’s direction while lifting one foot onto the bed and letting his knee fall open in invitation. His smile was smug but there was nothing smirky about it. “Since you’ve finished bringing out the best in me how about you bring the best of you over here…”

Neville clambered along the bed on his knees then crawled over Draco to kiss him. Draco firmly pressed a flattened palm against Neville’s chest.

“No magic Longbottom. Undress me slowly. Take your time. Give me a taste of our eternity.”

“Tease,” Neville said before their lips met. “Say please.”

Draco arched his back seductively and used his fingertips to tickle the nape of Neville’s neck. “Please,” he said. There was nothing submissive about it.

Neville’s cock complained but his heart deigned to give Draco precisely what he wanted. Slowly and lightly his fingers moved to unfasten Draco’s clothes. With similar meticulous touch, his lips and tongue followed his hands over his lover’s body. They touched and tasted each other all over, inside and out, before Draco returned to his starting position and lifted his hips for Neville to slide beneath and between his buttocks. Neville sank into the heat of Draco’s embrace as well as his arse. Magic could fulfil every need but this. It was impossible to be closer than this. Every part of them was connected by threads of emotional energy. And sweat. So much sweat as they exercised their love to its physical threshold. They were drenched with it as were the sheets and the mattress.

“Imagine how sweaty we’d be without the ceiling fan.”

“Next room, Prefect bath,” Draco insisted drowsily as they settled in to sleep on clean linen. “Sleep now because you’re going to fuck me on the floor, in the water, all over the place before we go home tomorrow.”

“Am I?” Neville asked as though that was as unlikely as becoming Minister for Magic.

Draco nodded with confidence. His eyes were already closed.

Turned out he was right.  


*~~~*

  
Neville continued to use the house built for him near the Hogwarts greenhouses once he became a Professor since his holiday duties included maintaining the school gardens in collusion with Hagrid, who was still groundskeeper. The house sat empty whenever Draco came to visit. They felt it would be insulting whatever aspect of Hogwarts created the Room of Requirement if they didn’t sleep in the rooms it provided for them. They might bonk all over the school without remorse but sleeping was different.

Draco continued to bring Scorpius to visit Alice until she died. Scorpius was four. He sat on Draco’s lap through the funeral service, both of them unhidden at Neville’s side. It caused a mild stir among his parents’ generation but no one said a word after Scorpius placed a red felt ball with a bell inside atop the coffin then returned to sit on Neville’s lap and gave him a hug. Scorpius and Neville had no direct contact after that.

Gran was gone the same year. Aside from Minerva McGonagall, all Gran’s acquaintances had passed through the arch. Neville’s immediate friends came. There were no children at this funeral. Draco sat alone beside Neville. The wake for Augusta Longbottom was their final public appearance together.

“Funny how we’d expected this event to set us free when we were younger,” Draco said without humour as they tidied Gran’s house for the last time. Neville’s other friends had already left.

“I hope you’re not thinking I’m callous enough to wish harm on your son,” Neville said with solemn alarm.

“No. We’ve both grown up enough to know that while we relied on other people our happiness didn’t rely on their opinions.”

“Our misery and happiness changed their opinions.”

“That wouldn’t have made any difference if they hadn’t already loved us.”

Neville sat in a chintz upholstered chair and brought Draco onto his lap. “I can’t decide whether breaking up when we were younger is the biggest mistake or the greatest opportunity. My tears at losing you set my parents free. They hid their grief to spare me and Gran. Once they knew it made no difference…” He tightened his embrace around Draco’s middle and buried his face against Draco’s chest as he cried. He felt Draco’s fingers comb through his hair. Neville marvelled at how his high school antagonist had become his adult comfort and companion. Grief for all he’d lost and amazement at all he’d gained mixed in his tears.  


*~~~*

  
“How’d Lupin Baby’s first day of big school go? Is he in your class?” Draco asked before Neville finished opening his office door.

At least he wasn’t naked, Neville thought. Draco could perch on the edge of Neville’s desk like that with his knees apart and feet on the armrests of the chair a little later. For now… Neville swept the lanky legs out of his way and sat heavily in his chair.

“Does anyone know the natural colour of Teddy’s hair? It changes each time he’s caught nicking something that doesn’t belong to him, so neither the students nor teachers know who they’re looking for.”

There was something smug about Draco’s silence. Neville called him a turd.

“It’s what I’d do if I’d been lucky enough to be born Metamorphmagic,” Draco admitted with a shrug. “Please tell me he’s in Slytherin.”

“Ravenclaw.”

“Damn. Then he’ll be getting no more advice from me.”

“Oh good, he might actually manage to complete First Year without getting expelled.”

Draco grinned. “I love you like this.”

“Tired and cranky?” asked Neville.

“Responsible and ordinary with just a hint of smartarse,” Draco replied while nudging Neville’s lower rib with a big toe.

Neville let one hand wander up Draco’s trouser leg before leaning up and out of the seat to kiss his bonded partner. Then they made love on the desk.

“Better now?” Draco asked as they got dressed.

“Much,” Neville admitted with a broad smile.

“Then I’ll see you every Wednesday while Scorpius has a play date at his cousins’. Purely to maintain your mental health,” Draco added loftily. “Not to replace our fortnightly sleepovers.”

“What’s going to happen once Scorpius turns eleven?”

“He’ll be educated here. Don’t expect him to remember your parents by then, or you. Seven years is a lot to a child.”

“And adults. Look at the changes seven years brought to our lives.”

“You and I will still be together,” Draco assured Neville. “Bound, remember?” Draco patted Neville’s cheek as Neville nodded his head. It felt more like a gentle slap actually. “We’ll sort out our visiting hours before then.”  


*~~~*

  
Ginny and Harry invited Neville and Draco over for dinner while their children spent a weekend with Molly and Arthur Weasley.

“Alright Potters,” Draco said once the main course was cleared. “No couple would waste child-free naughty adult play time on guests they weren’t going to swing.”

Ginny’s saucy chortle didn’t make Harry or Neville more comfortable with Draco’s imagery. Harry hurriedly tossed an open envelope across the table. “It’s from Teddy.”

“If he’s trying to blame me for the trouble he gets into…” Draco began as Neville opened it.

“You’re in enough trouble.”

Neville saw what Harry meant as he read the first paragraph and felt his face grow hot. “By the lake, he saw us one night.” Neville passed the letter to Draco. “Teddy was out testing to see if a full moon could make him change…”

“That part’s Ron’s fault not yours,” said Ginny.

“…and thought your fine naked form was a ghost.”

“Lupin Baby thinks you’re romancing a ghost?”

“What exactly did Teddy see?” Harry looked queasy as he asked.

Draco didn’t look up from the letter as he said “Well we weren’t training for the midnight skinny dip championships.”

“It’s a school!”

“It was after curfew,” Neville said in their defence. “Well after curfew.” It had been a grimy hot night following a grimier, hotter day so they’d taken a late swim in the lake then had noisy sex in the shallows. Draco’s pale skin had taken on an ethereal glow in the moonlight and Neville had taken great delight in taking him. His privates took great delight in remembering. Cool outside, hot inside…

“He must have seen me summon our clothes if he thinks I’m a poltergeist. Didn’t even recognise me! How quickly they forget.”

Harry had another complaint. “You’re not supposed to be at the school.”

“I’m on the board of governors. Besides, a corridor runs directly from my manor suite to our Hogwarts residence. You have a problem with that then take it up with the Room of Requirement.”

“Told you it wouldn’t make any difference Harry,” said Ginny. “Hogwarts needs them there together for some reason.”

“Look Potter,” Draco said sharply. “I know you think Neville made a grievous mistake in taking me back but I loved him then, I love him now and I loved him in between. He’s not going to lose his job just because a student caught us having a midnight frolic. When Father was on the school board I heard worse cases of misconduct involving Professors who’d continued to teach for thirty years.”

“Including our ancestors,” Neville put in.

“Your ancestor was the professor who had it off with a student,” Draco countered. “Potter should thank me for keeping your penis occupied so you’re not pointing it at little Lupin.”

“Ah, so that’s who that story was about. Linden Longbottom and Ursula Black,” Ginny said to Harry. Harry looked at her blankly. “They really should be teaching that in History of Magic.”

“But then think of all the silly school girls who’ll think it’s hot to get on with a professor—like Lockhart.” Neville’s comment earned a nod from Harry and Draco. The girls had gone bonkers the year Lockhart taught DADA.

“No one who read that story to the end could be that stupid,” Ginny insisted. “That lost, unfortunate baby.”

“They had a baby?” Neville asked Draco. “You didn’t mention that.”

“Sorry. I just assumed you’d read it if you wanted details. While the forbidden lovers were being tortured by Ursula’s parents and the school board it was discovered that Ursula had fallen pregnant during Sixth Year, hidden the pregnancy from all but Linden, and given birth on school grounds. Linden cared for the child when Ursula went home for the holidays. It doesn’t say where the child was when both parents were in class or what happened after their memories were altered. The headmaster portraits don’t know either.”

The dining room of Grimmauld Place felt grim indeed.

“Just, if you’re going to fuck outside while you’re at Hogwarts, do it during the summer holiday,” Harry said eventually and the topic was laid to rest.  


*~~~*

  
The Auror Office loudly and repeatedly questioned Hogwarts security. Something had to be done about the casual way certain outsiders abused the anomaly inherent in the new Room of Requirement.

Neville scowled as Ministry representatives, Hogwarts staff and school board members naturally turned their gaze to Draco. Draco blithely doodled on the proposed demolition of the unique room then aimed a Luna-worthy smile at his scowling lover. “Oh, they mean me,” he said in faultless imitation of flattered surprise and Neville’s scowl wobbled into a snorting chortle. Draco let humour visibly dissolve from his features as he stared each attendee in the eye. “Don’t Harry Potter, Mrs Potter and all the little Potters pop in to Hogwarts via the tunnel leading from the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade?” He frowned thoughtfully while flicking through the thick document. “My copy seems to be missing the section about filling that in. Surely current protocols for educating werewolves at Hogwarts make both structures redundant?”

Silence reigned.

Draco leaned forward. He rested both forearms on the large table with his fingers linked and tapped his thumbs together. “We agree that the erratic behaviour of the Room poses a problem. Our motives for leaving it intact are mostly personal but also intellectual. Doesn’t anyone want to know how and why this room exists? How the original came to be in the first place? Its affection for Neville is easily explained. Have any of you met a softer, warmer individual?” Draco’s proud and adoring smile made Neville feel like a heroic titan among mortals. “If funding was the main reason research into the Hogwarts Room of Requirement has been scaled down so dramatically all anyone had to do was ask. Find out why it’s able to open a door to Acapulco, why it wants to...”

“You’re not saying much,” Neville whispered to Hermione who was present as both Ministry and school board representative.

“My lines come later,” she replied and when the time came she leapt to her feet and delivered them brilliantly. “Yes, the Auror Office should be applying the latest defensive measures to all access points but that the decision regarding demolition of the Room of Requirement should be based solely on the findings of the Department of Mysteries. For all we know this room may be alive. It continually shows intelligence and even compassion.”

“Don’t get all romantic, Granger. It only likes me because Longbottom does.”

“Are you suggesting enforced resignation for Professor Longbottom?” asked Headmaster Vector.

“That won’t make a difference. He lived with me directly after his mother died and the room of all seasons appeared beside the pond. The winter wall dominated and froze the pond. The ice was solid enough to skate on, which cheered him up enough for the spring wall to gain control. So of course the ice thawed and we fell in. Some sentience controls that Room and it can’t leave Neville alone. It warrants investigating. Suggest harming or killing him to see how the Room responds and my vengeance will wreak the kind of destruction that gave Aunt Bellatrix multiple orgasms.”

That obviously wasn’t part of whatever script Hermione and Draco were working from. Hermione’s expression was priceless. It was as though she’d suddenly remembered this was the Malfoy she went to school with.

“Um, well, yes, thank you Draco for that testimony. All in favour of the Department of Mysteries investigating the Room of Requirement lest it find another student to latch onto?” Hermione clearly fluffed that last line but the end result was still to her satisfaction—until she saw Draco was the only person present without a lit wand in the air. “What…? You started this motion!”

“Those Unspeakables aren’t going to try to watch us fuck and claim it’s for research purposes are they?”

Hermione hit him repeatedly across the shoulder. The motion was carried.  


*~~~*

  
Neville and Draco became so discreet over the next few years that those closest to them began to wonder whether they were still together. They sent out Christmas cards with both names at the bottom and a promise to let people know if they broke up.

“Like we’re that big a deal,” Draco grumbled during their Sunday morning routine.

Neville pointed to the features of the room they were in. “We’re epic remember?”

“Yes, but why?”

The Department of Mysteries had been at work on that for half a decade and still had no idea.  


*~~~*

  
Neville felt nervous as a First Year when the children of his friends lined up for their Sorting. Harry had sent an owl asking Neville to keep an eye out for Albus, who’d been on the verge of wanting to attend a Muggle school thanks to his brother’s incessant teasing about being placed in Slytherin. Al seemed to be over that since he waved vigorously to Neville while chatting cheerily to Rose Weasley as they walked in.

Scorpius was Neville’s immediate concern. He entered the Great Hall with a purposeful stride far too mature for his age but became sullen and withdrawn as the line of students in front of him dwindled to single figures.

“Malfoy…” his first name was lost in a murmur from the student body. Harry Potter’s name caused a much larger fuss twenty-six years ago, but the murmurs about Harry hadn’t been underlined with malice. Every professor looked at the Malfoy boy to see how he’d react.

Scorpius strode with long, deliberately timed steps to the stool so everyone could get a good look then sat straight and calm. He resembled Narcissa waiting to receive tea in front of guests she neither liked nor detested. “Slytherin,” cried the Sorting Hat without hesitation.

“No shit!” someone from Hufflepuff exclaimed and lost ten points for their House.

Scorpius ignored the laughter and mutters as he took his seat at the Slytherin table. The person beside him moved along so a troll could fit between them. “Very mature,” Scorpius drawled in a fake complimentary tone. “Good grief, are you our Prefect? It’s probably safe to assume Slytherin hasn’t won a House Cup recently.” Then he folded both hands neatly on his lap and turned a vacant gaze toward the sorting stool.

Neville found the entire performance rather entertaining and looked forward to telling Draco later.

Potter, Albus was next. The Hat took a moment before shouting out “Slytherin!” Albus shocked everyone further by flipping James the finger with both hands while sticking out his tongue. That gesture assured him hero status among the student body. Then he sat directly beside Scorpius and grinned while offering his hand. His popularity plummeted audibly. Their corner of Slytherin table was close enough to Neville’s seat at the staff table for him to hear the ensuing conversation.

“I’m Al.”

“And what do you want?”

“Well, I reckon this is the safest place to sit because you’ll hex all the bullies who come after me once we become friends. **Or** it’s the most dangerous, and then I’ll need to be close enough to punch you in the face if you try anything.”

Scorpius declared Al an idiot with a dismissive sniff.

“My brother’s a tosser. I’ve been working on a sneaky left hook all year in case I was sorted into Gryffindor with him.”

Scorpius stared blankly at Albus.

“Alright, so that last part’s a lie. I actually asked the Hat to put me in Slytherin so I could sit with you since no one else wants to and I thought the way you handled that was cool. Uncle Ron told us not to get too friendly with you but he has an odd sense of humour so… I could go back up and ask the Hat to put me in Gryffindor like it wanted to.”

“Be quiet or I’ll show you why no one wants to sit with me.”

“Sorry. I’m just, nervous. People expect me to be Mr Whizz-bang Rebellious Hero and I’m just, ordinary.”

“People expect me to try and kill everyone. Care to trade?”

“You’re wicked,” Al said with a smile of approval.

“You’re oddly nice.” Scorpius made it sound like an insult but his expression as he turned away revealed uncertainty.

Al followed Scorpius like a shadow while Scorpius ignored him for four days. Professor Longbottom told his Slytherin and Gryffindor First Years to pair up for their first herbology lesson, expecting Al to partner his cousin Rose or follow Scorpius as usual. He did neither. Al stood aside with another Slytherin and a Gryffindor who’d been unclaimed. He began to ask the Slytherin boy if they could sit together when Scorpius realised the place beside him was vacant.

“Waiting for an engraved invitation Potter? Get your oddball arse over here.”

Albus hurried over in bewildered glee. Scorpius didn’t say anything more to him during the lesson, although he muttered a lot while making the hole in Al’s potting mix a little deeper when the lower tendrils of Al’s Dragon’s Beard didn’t sit flush with the soil. Albus flicked a tiny clot of potting mix into Scorpius’ pure white hair. Scorpius charmed a larger clot to hit Al’s robes. Al then wiped a wet, muddy hand across the young Malfoy’s cheek and took off across the greenhouse as Scorpius turned to retaliate. They knocked over two Gryffindors, a Slytherin and the tray of Devil’s Snare seedlings before Professor Longbottom threatened the grinning boys with detention.

Neville wondered if that’s how Sirius and Remus started. Harry agreed and Draco made ‘kill me now’ gestures when Neville described their sons’ first week.

“You were right. He doesn’t remember me,” Neville told Draco once they were alone in their cosy room. Sadness seeped through his observation. He didn’t expect to be bothered but he was, deeply so.

“Is it that Scorpius doesn’t remember **you** or that he doesn’t remember your parents?” Draco asked while stroking the hair on Neville’s chest. “He did for a while, asking why we didn’t visit our soft people anymore. That’s how his child’s mind defined them because Frank and Alice were so gentle and quiet. He was always sad when Astoria, Mother and I explained that they’d died. Then he remembered for himself and stopped asking. He missed them terribly. Asked if they were my grandparents once, sent Father into a rage.”

Neville tried to look Draco in the eye but Draco stared stubbornly at Neville’s chin.

“We were a family,” Neville said after realisation hit like an Unforgiveable Curse.

Now Draco met his gaze. “Yes, we were.” There was something accusatory about that statement.

“What are we since?” Neville asked hollowly.

“A couple.”

“Is that enough for you?”

“Honestly? No. Tor and I have begun trying to get pregnant again. After the last two miscarriages we weren’t game to say anything…”

Neville could only offer a cuddle as comfort but Draco accepted it like it was worth more than Gringotts. “Even though we’re happy we’re miserable.”

“Who do we blame now Voldemort’s gone?”

There was no answer to that. Ponderous silence eventually dragged them into sleep without breaking their embrace.  


*~~~*

  
A complicated third miscarriage took Astoria through the veil before Halloween during Scorpius, Al and Rose’s second year at Hogwarts. Draco came to live in the small house with Neville so he could be close to comfort as well as Scorpius. His place on the board of school governors plus the odd behaviour of the Room of Requirement silenced all official protests. Scorpius was grateful for his father’s proximity, although he’d been angry and embarrassed to discover that Draco was the water spirit rumoured to have the herbology professor in thrall. A single argument in the Room of All Seasons was enough to alter the boy’s perspective. He eventually found some humour in the situation although he was still embarrassed by their clandestine behaviour.

“All this time,” he said one Friday afternoon as he joined Draco and Neville in the herbologist’s house. “Those silly stories about Professor Longbottom, ghosts and his house, Mother and her lady friend…”

“Imelda was more than your mother’s friend, Scorpius. Unlike the Professor here,” Draco openly reached for Neville’s hand, “Imelda couldn’t cope with living in the background. Not that she was selfish,” Draco hastened to add. “Neville grew accustomed to me bossing him about at school and didn’t have to adjust…”

Neville pinched him. Draco had become a bossy bottom once he’d stopped being a bully. His brief and incredibly saucy grin meant the message had been received and understood but now was not the time to draw that kind of attention. Neville behaved. Scorpius saw the exchange and understood what his father meant about background. For the first time he spoke to Neville as his father’s partner rather than a potentially home-wrecking professor.

“Our soft people,” Scorpius began then paused slightly. “Are they your parents?”

“Yes,” Neville replied simply.

“I miss them almost as much as my mother,” Scorpius admitted softly.

Draco hugged his son without hesitation or embarrassment. “We still have a family Scorpius. Your mother remains part of it, only now it’s Neville’s turn to take care of us while we grieve. You still have to call him Professor at school.”

“Ruin all my fun,” Scorpius muttered.

“Oh yes, because he’s bothered to stop you and Potter marauding through Hogwarts thus far.”

Scorpius grinned at the mention of his best friend and their antics—and the inability of Hogwarts staff to prevent them.

“Albus was such a nice, shy boy before the two of you met.” said Neville.

“Imagine how early you would have blossomed if you’d been Sorted into Slytherin,” Draco almost gloated. “You would have killed Nagini for me and I’d never have stuffed up so royally.”

“You were a git. A stunning git once puberty had its way with you, but still a git,” Neville felt fit to remind him. “I wanted to be in Hufflepuff but that darned Hat wouldn’t let me.”

“Blah, blah, stunning, blah, blah—that’s all I got from that Longbottom.”

Neville shook his head and Scorpius snorted back a chortle at his father’s expense before they smiled awkwardly at each other.

“I guess this is okay then,” Scorpius told Draco then sipped casually at his tea.

Draco subtly squeezed Neville’s thigh just above the knee to say they’d talk about it once they were alone, which they did. Scorpius would need time to adjust. The Potter and Weasley children weren’t impressed by his gossip, feeling they should have known all along, especially after Teddy Lupin sniffed and said that was old news when they told him why Draco and Scorpius were dining at Grimmauld Place for Christmas.

“Besides, my father’s a werewolf. What right have I to judge?”

Much to Draco’s despair Scorpius found Teddy fascinating. Much to James, Albus and Lily’s, Teddy gave Scorpius the Marauders’ Map after using potential ownership to bribe them into doing what he wanted for years.

“Dad!” they all protested to Harry.

Harry put his hands in the air and shook his head while rocking back on his chair the way Sirius used to. “His father made it along with mine…”

This wasn’t good enough for James. “You’re only going along with it because Maleficent and Al are bestededest bed bum chums. OW!”

Albus and Scorpius had kicked James under the table but Neville suspected Draco may have jinxed him too. The casual serenity of his lover’s expression confirmed it.

“Use it for good instead of evil,” Teddy told Scorpius, “or…” His facial features shifted into those of a wolf. Scorpius yelped and leapt back out of his seat, knocking over the chair, only to immediately put an arm around Lily when she covered her eyes and begged Teddy to stop it in a voice that squeaked like a house elf. The young wizard’s wand shook as it pointed at Teddy until he returned to normal.

“Thank you Scorpius,” Lily said softly as he let her go and put her chair to rights. Scorpius patted her on the head in an awkward, almost patronising manner then they went back to ignoring each other.

The reflexive act of chivalry raised eyebrows while Teddy apologised repeatedly. Then he scolded James. “That’s why you didn’t get the Map.”

The adults thought there were other reasons Teddy gave Scorpius the Map. They sat around the parlour in cuddly pairs once Teddy had gone to Andromeda’s and the children were in bed to discuss it: both motherless only children, their grandmothers were sisters, certain sectors of the magical community were prejudiced against their fathers, lateral descendant of Sirius…

“Do you think Teddy knows about Remus and Sirius?” Neville asked Harry. Neville lay on the floor between Draco’s sprawled and lanky legs. His head rested in Draco’s lap and Draco’s fingers absently tickled his face and hair. Harry only stopped staring and answered Neville’s question when Ginny’s toe poked him in the ribs.

“Huh? Yeah. Dunno who told him but, probably Luna or Hermione. Hermione spotted it right off but didn’t say anything to me or Ron until after Moony and Tonks were killed. You know how she is.”

“Luna’s looking for the lost child of Linden Longbottom and Ursula Black,” Ginny said with a yawn. “Thinks he/she/it may be one of the nameless ghosts of Hogwarts and hopes to write an article about the entire tragic affair for the Quibbler.”

Harry, Neville and Draco nodded sleepily, too tired to reply any other way. “Where are we sleeping?” Neville asked Draco.

“Not here,” Draco replied.

“Scorp’s asleep, love.”

“Regulus’ room is made up…” Ginny began but left it hanging as Draco looked up sharply and Harry frantically shook his head.

“Is it how he left it?” Draco asked with an odd reverence that Neville and Harry found disturbing.

“Some of it,” said Ginny. “These Blacks were fond of permanent sticking charms.”

“We tend to be possessive,” Draco told her while gently stroking Neville’s throat.

“We’re in Sirius’ old room across the hall,” Harry said resignedly, “so no fucking.”

“Too tired,” Neville murmured drowsily. Draco chuckled while pushing him into a sitting position then said he’d better tuck Neville into bed.

“Top landing,” Ginny told them.

“Don’t thieve anything!” Harry called after Draco.

“Kreacher already handed over anything worth nicking—apart from what you let Mundungus Fletcher sell off. Important historical artefacts…” Draco grumbled angrily as they went upstairs. “At least the mouldy old elf heads are gone. Bet Potter never offered those to Lupin Baby.”

“Please don’t start this again.”

Draco spitefully repeated Neville’s request. “By rights of heredity this ugly house and its contents should have been mine. I don’t give a knarl’s arse that Potter’s living here but everything marked with the Black crest...that’s my heritage Longbottom. Regulus made the same mistakes I did then made amends by trying to destroy that Horcrux. Why do you think I wanted to find that stinking diadem? All these years and you still have no idea just how much Potter’s taken from me.” He stopped to stare at the simple nameplate. “He was eighteen. Did anyone ask what happened to him? Did his brother bother to discover the truth or mourn him? Can you imagine how desperate he’d been to protect his brother from the Dark Lord that he willingly became an Inferus? And Sirius didn’t give a shit.”

“That isn’t the same for you.”

“You don’t get it. Regulus turned out to be the best of us. He’s dead and the rest of us blunder on.”

Then Neville got it. Suicide watch before the restoration of Hogwarts; Draco’s freak out when Hermione’s polyjuice changed him into Regulus; his insistence upon breaking up to stop an escalating family feud; the bitterness that refused to fade; taking Scorpius to meet Frank and Alice.

“Imagine my life after Hogwarts if you hadn’t survived,” Neville said softly while putting an arm around Draco’s waist.

“Selfish prick,” Draco said after a gruff snort.

“We’re well suited. Do you want some time alone to pay your respects?”

Draco said five minutes should be sufficient so Neville used the loo and brushed his teeth as he usually did before bed. He found Draco sitting cross-legged on the bed reading articles that had been stuck on the wall. He watched as Draco went over them again, touching a word or phrase in one notice then part of another.

“More than a permanent sticking charm, a message,” Draco explained. “Regulus expected Sirius to inherit the house once their mother died and then immediately try and remove the propaganda. Sirius had moved to Azkaban before then. Azkaban dulls a wizard’s wits, no matter how intelligent, and he never figured it out.”

“How do you know?”

“Dumbledore didn’t start the great Horcrux hunt until after Father gave Ginny Riddle’s diary. Mother told Father to get rid of it specifically when the Ministry authorised further raids on Death Eater homes but only because it was Riddle’s. My parents never suspected it was a Horcrux but Regulus did. He thought Sirius could succeed in destroying it, or convince Mother to. The clues are all here.”

“Does this make you feel better or worse?”

“To have something Regulus left behind that Sirius failed to hand over to Potter is good but honestly, I’m still pissed off.”

“Honestly? I’m too exhausted to argue.”

Draco used a spell to move the bed since sleeping against a wall gave them both a sense of being trapped. Neville sat on one side of the bed and watched Draco silently undress. _There’s still so much I don’t know about you._

“Are you sure I’m enough of a puzzle for you?” Neville asked while joining him beneath the covers.

“Your simplicity no longer inspires insults so what do you think?”

Silence prevailed for a matter of minutes but neither of them slept.

“Why agree to the bonding if you continually have doubts?” Draco eventually asked.

“Things I discover about you inspire surprise, not doubt.”

“Are you sure?”

“Certain.” Neville moved closer to Draco and put an arm around him. “We’ve faced the worst of our trials and can allow ourselves to be happy together. Let’s give that a try, huh?”

“There’s always going to be something,” Draco grumbled stubbornly.

“No there isn’t.”

Draco mumbled “Optimistic twit.” But Neville felt him relax. Then they slept comfortably.

In the morning, after slipping Draco a quickie and letting him go back to sleep, Neville asked Harry to trace some of the items Mundungus sold bearing the Black family crest. Harry told him to sod off with a mouthful of toast.

“Regulus was a member of _his_ family, not yours, and he restored my family to me. Just because you hated the people who raised you…”

“You know, Draco’s a bad influence on you.”

“At least he went out of his way to be an influence. Just forget it. It’s not like you owe me any favours. I didn’t ensure most of the student body kept faith in you or helped destroy a Horcrux or anything.”

Harry calmly placed his cutlery on his plate and leaned back in his chair. “Were you always this much of a dick or only after you became a hero?”

“Were you ever actually my friend?” Neville asked.

“I think you should leave and take your corruptive whore bag with you.”

“What did I miss?” Ginny asked with a frown as she entered the kitchen and found herself in their bubble of vexation. “Neville? Harry? One of you better answer before I roar like my mother.”

“Nothing you and I haven’t discussed before,” Neville told her. “The Malfoys and I will be leaving now.” He kissed Ginny’s cheek on his way out then went upstairs to inconvenience his family and assure them the hasty departure was in no way their fault.  


*~~~*

  
Life became almost tediously domestic for a good long while. Neville taught. Draco dutifully acted on behalf of the school board. Scorpius studied diligently and made the most of the Marauders’ Map with Albus. Draco and Scorpius divided the next four summers between Malfoy Manor and Greengrass Park. Neville welcomed the time alone when he wasn’t socialising with friends.

The small house behind the Hogwarts greenhouses burned down when origami birds given to Professor Longbottom by a Muggleborn Seventh Year became a flock of miniature flaming phoenix during an argument over a topic neither Draco nor Neville remembered. They were too distraught over happy memories destined to be lost to bother with such trivial details as who’d been at fault. The Room of Requirement beckoned every time Neville walked past it so he took the hint and the pair moved in there.

Professor Binns finally realised he was dead. Unfortunately he was in the middle of teaching a class and caused a certain amount of distress among students by keening and failing about. Ever mindful of an opportunity to be a complete smartarse, Draco stepped in with a rather snide lecture on modern magical history—something Binns remained totally unfamiliar with—and shocked many Third Years while impressing others by showing off the faded scar left from his Dark Mark. Hogwarts owlery was swamped by students writing home about the wicked fill-in History of Magic teacher, all of them hoping he’d stay. Draco readily accepted the position. “Until the novelty wears off,” he added cheekily.

Neville discovered that Scorpius and Albus were not bestededest bed bum chums after spotting seventeen year old Scorpius casually luring his best friend’s younger sister into the lake for a midnight snog.

“Hope you like Lily, Professor Malfoy,” Neville said to introduce the subject.

“More than her father,” Draco admitted. “Why?” He listened silently, left eyebrow slowly creeping up his forehead as Neville offered details. “Hope you gave them detention.”

“I tried, and had our moonlight tryst in the lake thrown back in my face.”

“Go back and reissue that detention Longbottom. Tell them they’re supposed to learn from our mistakes not emulate them, blah, blah, parental stuff like that. Go on.” Draco made a shooing gesture with both hands. “When you get back I’ll reward you with a trip to the Prefects’ bathroom.”

“You’ll get us kicked out.”

“They wouldn’t dare. Imagine the student revolt if Hero of Hogwarts Professor Longbottom was ejected from castle grounds for boffing Shame of Slytherin Professor Malfoy. They love you more for nailing me than all that other stuff I brag to them about in class you know.”

Neville forgot about the snogging teenagers. “What precisely do you brag about, Professor?” he asked while stalking lustfully toward Draco. Draco’s devious grin made Neville hard and opened a path directly from the Room of Requirement to the Prefect’s bathroom. Draco dashed around the massive tub, turning on fountains of water and scented foam then stripping off as he managed to stay out of reach. He dove into the rising water as Neville struggled to remove his shoes. “Don’t you think we’re getting too old for this?” Neville asked.

“Can’t get it up, Professor?” Draco called back.

Neville proved just how far up he could get it. Draco grunted and moaned as Neville took him from behind against one side of the enormous bath. Bubbles tickled. Water splashed. Lust echoed and prevailed over setting a good example. “Louder,” Neville demanded. His left arm crossed the front of Draco’s body to grab Draco’s right shoulder, holding them together back to chest. His right hand caught the hair at the back of Draco’s head and pulled then pressed his mouth against Draco’s throat to feel him exclaim “Bruise me with that fucking big dick.”

“Fuck your arse so hard my knob hits the base of your skull, that what you want Professor?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Louder,” Neville demanded again with a gruff growl.

“Fuck, YES.” So Neville shifted his grip on Draco, grabbing by shoulder and opposing hip, bending him forward so Draco pushed against the side of the bath with both hands. They knelt on the ledge beneath the water provided for sitting so the water reached no higher than mid-thigh and Neville could pound deep enough into Draco to make the stained glass mermaid stuff her long hair into her ears to stifle the sounds of colliding bodies.

They came, noisier still, and then sank back into the water to sit on the ledge. Draco sat between Neville’s legs, languorous in his embrace with his head resting on Neville’s shoulder and savouring the slow, extravagant motion of their kiss.

Hogwarts Head Girl came into the bathroom with her Sixth Year boyfriend. They stared in astonishment at their enamoured professors before fleeing from the gentle echo of Draco’s whisper: “I love you Professor Longbottom, and your enormous dick, too.” Or so Moaning Myrtle told them as they got dressed. “I’ve never seen one so big,” she added with a titter then disappeared down a plughole in case Draco did something dreadful to her.

“Utter perve!” exclaimed Neville in shocked embarrassment.

“I’ve only been telling you that for twenty-five years. Nice of you to finally catch on,” Draco replied as though he’d been terribly insulted.

Neville sat on the floor to put on his shoes so he could grin adoringly up at Draco. The pair of lovers made old man noises as Draco helped Neville to his feet.

“I don’t feel forty-two when we lay together in bed at night,” Draco admitted.

“Or fuck,” added Neville.

“You shouldn’t be allowed to say that word without a hard-on. It doesn’t suit you.”

Neville laughed and Draco smiled adoringly at him.

“Can I please have a bath now?” the forgotten Head Girl called from the corridor.

“Only if you’re alone,” Draco and Neville called back.

“Hypocrites!” she declared.

“Potential teen pregnancy!” countered Draco.

“I got Johnnies!” the boy pitched in.

“Merlin’s arse Nicholas, you’re not helping.”

Draco and Neville chuckled. “Follow my lead,” said Neville. He curved an arm behind Draco’s back before opening the door then looked back over his shoulder. “Got your underwear this time Sexy?”

“Yes!” Draco grabbed the hem of his robes. “See.”

Head Girl and her boyfriend were a lot less horny now and not likely to recover for the next day or two. Boyfriend ran off to his dorm. Head Girl bathed alone.

Neville still thought it best to check Draco’s underwear status as they walked along. Draco slapped the inquisitive hand away then held it in his. They returned to their room with smiles on their faces and hearts full of love.  


*~~~*

  
“Remember my surprise the first time you described me as the most beautiful person you knew?” Neville asked one random morning while bringing Draco into his arms.

“Clearly,” Draco replied with daydreamy eyes. “The humbly flattered way you plonked your idiotic head on the table and smiled up at me made me want to grab you and kiss your face off. Remember the first time you looked at me without seeing something evil and vile?

Neville doubted Draco’s timeline of that event matched his.

“Sixth Year,” Draco said with Neville then continued on his own. “We collided in the library doorway. For once you weren’t terrified or pissed off at the sight of me. Startled, like I was, and confused because I was too distracted to torment you. So I bestowed my usual scowl upon you.”

“But it was too late. I’d seen that you were human.”

“I did my best to make you forget, which worked for a while.”

“No it didn’t. Weeks later you came running down the astronomy tower stairs with Snape forcing you along and I wanted to save you, but couldn’t. I didn’t.”

“You have saved me Neville, many times. Acting like the randy students we should have been is my way of apologising for ruining your senior year. I let the Dark Fraud, his Death Eaters and that mangy Greyback in. It’s my fault Hogwarts became a prison camp.”

“It’s your fault I love you.”

“It’ll be your fault we’re late to the Great Hall for breakfast. Our colleagues and students will know why.”

“We won’t be,” Neville assured Draco and kissed his neck. “I’m already hard. Sit on me Dray, like you used to. Just drape yourself all over me and let me do the muscle work.”

“We haven’t made love this way in years,” Draco pointed out as he looped his arms around Neville’s neck and straddled his lap. He relaxed on top of Neville with his head on Neville’s shoulder and all ten fingers nestled in Neville’s hair. “This was always my favourite when we were younger.”

“Mine too.” Neville firmly ran both hands up and down Draco’s back. “Stay young at heart for me.”

“With you,” Draco promised with a gasp as Neville entered him with a slow, full length thrust.

“Grown accustomed to the size of my dick have you? Feel how easy I slide inside you. Years of fucking made you the perfect fit for my cock. Wrapped around my heart the way you wind around my body.”

“Forever mine, body and soul, bound to me. You fuck the way you love, thoroughly perfect.”

They were late to the Great Hall for breakfast. Their colleagues and students knew why. Draco prepared Neville a plate of sausage and egg while Neville poured Draco some tea. They exchanged a kiss along with plate and cup. Not a soul whispered about it. Their love was now as much a part of Hogwarts as moving staircases and the enchanted ceiling.

Life couldn’t get better than this.  


*~~~*

  
The Bonded professors were sharing an intimate moment in the rooms Hogwarts created for them when several security charms announced the presence of a threat. Their Room of Requirement opened a door in the thick of the action—outside a boys’ lavatory. Draco muttered that this provided a new low for chronicles of warfare. “Pity any professor who has to teach this moment of magical history, ‘The Midday Potty Siege’…”

For some reason there were students of both genders and all Houses gathered in the corridor. Shouts of wrath and terror ricocheted from every stone surface. Snippets in various languages proved that these students weren’t only from Hogwarts.

“Told them Triwizard Tournament bad idea,” Neville grunted as he and Draco forced their way to the riot’s core. There was a student down, unable to tell who just yet but the uniform was in Ravenclaw colours.

“Reveal my children, now!” the headmistress from Beauxbaton shrieked as she created a stinging whip of energy that resembled the threadlike tentacles of a jellyfish. Red welts immediately appeared on any skin it touched. The mob of students hurried to defend each other and themselves from the insanely irate witch.

“Mademoiselle Fatale, please,” one of her Beauxbaton students pleaded and was struck down with a killing curse. Students gasped or screamed. Many fled. Neville tried to bind her but she deflected his curse with ease. Fatale continued yelling to the students as she parried and returned the spells Neville and Draco aimed at her. Her Prefects dealt with any students who interfered. Hopefully more professors would arrive soon.

“I know your papa hid you among these British swine. Whatever lies he told to keep you from me, Mon petites, do not believe! He tortured me then stole you when I tried to leave with you. I have the scars.”

“Any children you have would have to be my age at least you crazy old crone!” Draco shouted to draw her attention completely.

“Father!” shouted Scorpius in warning as the Prefects turned on Draco as well.

Imperius Curse, it had to be, thought Neville. Then Mademoiselle Fatale threatened to annihilate any student standing between her and her estranged children. She made the mistake of starting with Scorpius. “ _Avada Kedavra!_ ”

Draco aimed his killing curse less than one syllable behind hers. Neville disapparated like a panicked child and appeared in front of the students before her spell hit. He didn’t have time to think ‘but you can’t apparate or disapparate within Hogwarts grounds’ because he was dead.  


*~~~*

  
Someone was yelling. It took a while for Neville to realise the verbal abuse was aimed at him. “What in Merlin's name have you done Longbottom? Open your ghostly dead eyes and answer me!” Then the voice began sobbing. “Shit. Oh shit.” Then it yelled again. “That bitch better be dead. Because if she isn’t and I’m not there to protect my son because of YOU…!” A wave of anger rolled over Neville and receded. “Great. Terrific! I can’t even kick the crap out of you. Which circle of hell is this?”

A teenage girl’s voice spoke. “You need to calm down.”

“Calm down?! Look here dead girl…”

“The children are safe, all of them. Every magical child from every generation henceforth will remain safe within the boundaries of Hogwarts but you both have to choose it to be so.”

“Choose what?”

“To stay,” the girl explained. Her voice reminded Neville of his dear friend Luna. Somehow this thought eased the overpowering ache in his chest. It took great effort to open his eyes and sit upright but somehow he knew it would be worth it. This was a safe place.

They were in the room of all seasons. But something was dreadfully wrong. Neville knew he was dead. “Why are you here?” he asked the sullen ethereal form of Draco.

Draco angrily raised one hand in the air. A fine, fragile line of golden air joined his wrist to Neville’s. Every joint and limb was connected likewise. “Apparently ‘Bound for Eternity’ is not merely a figure of speech. You died so I died too.”

“He died protecting your son. His destiny is to defend, yours to attack. The prophecy could not be fulfilled otherwise.”

The faintest and feeblest of the golden threads suddenly flared brightly, linking their hearts as their eyes met. “You died to save Scorpius and I’m having a hissy fit? This is so twisted.”

“I don’t…I don’t get it,” Neville admitted.

“Pretty sure I died because you did, not simply when you did. The Durmstrang and Hogwarts students seemed to be aiming at those Imperiused prefects when Fatale’s curse tore your soul from your body. I saw it then, then I was pulled after you, I don’t know, but we stopped here.” Draco turned to stare at their company. Neville did too. Her ghostly hair was dark, eyes and skin pale. There were no marks on her, no damage done to her archaic clothes. Her hands and neck resembled Draco’s, her nose similar to Neville’s but when they were of similar age to the girl, not now they were men. Although they’d somehow regressed to the age when they were bound, Neville was sure of it.

“Lovegood would love this,” murmured Draco in astonishment. “Look at her. If the pair of us shared a half-sister or a daughter…”

Linden Longbottom and Ursula Black… “How is it she’s so old if she was a baby?”

“Perhaps I’m mistaken. Wouldn’t be the first time,” Draco admitted before looking back to the unfortunate girl. “Who are you, exactly?” he asked in familiar blunt fashion. Neville was sadly certain they were dead, but at least this phantom of Draco was still Draco.

The mysterious young lady gestured to the furniture created by Neville and Draco’s first series of kisses. Their spectral figures did not sink through the wood or hover above it. This newly discovered substance to their forms prompted them to try holding hands. It felt like touching tepid water but was certainly better than no physical contact at all. The girl also sat then began her tale.

“No one remembers my name, if I ever had one. While I was alive the centaurs, merpeople, and house elves called me Child. Those who could hear me after my death called me School Spirit. The werewolf was the only one who could see and hear me but then his friends learned to become animals and he didn’t need me anymore so I kept out of his way. The poor boy was already burdened by the rhyme ‘Loony loopy Lupin’. He didn’t need his classmates thinking he suffered from hallucinations. I thought he might be one half of the puzzle, he and the brother of his friend. But they were too afraid to believe their hearts, as with the Muggleborn girl and her half-blood prince. It was all terribly disappointing.”

“Luna would definitely love this,” Neville whispered to Draco.

“I miss Luna.” School Spirit sighed and then smiled brightly. “But then a dumpling and a pointy boy came to Hogwarts and there was a spark of gold between them. Buried so deep that it took six years to uncover and they covered it up again because it surprised them to find something so precious where it had no right to be—but they weren’t afraid of that spark. They treasured it. So I helped them keep it safe. At first it was only so they would fulfil the prophecy, but when they worked together to rebuild everything I held most dear I saw how uniquely beautiful that spark was and how much it had grown. They nurtured it and encouraged each other to thrive. Hogwarts never felt so connected and alive.” Her naturally soft voice sank to a whisper and she stared at her hands while linking and unlinking her fingers. “I could not abandon you when you felt forced to put such remarkable love aside. I was never taught human magic so I haven’t actually broken any rules.”

Draco’s hand felt warmer and more substantial as he spoke to Neville. “The house elves lied about the origins of the Room of Requirement. They built it for her. Generations of elves kept her existence secret because her parents asked them to. Hogwarts elves have always been the most loyal in Britain.”

The lost child of Linden Longbottom and Ursula Black smiled sadly at Draco. “They told the merfolk and centaurs of the cruelties inflicted upon my parents. Those often described as creatures protected me from my pureblood family and taught me their forms of magic. They continue teaching me. The free elf known as Dobby insisted you were horrible yet Kreacher held you in high regard.”

“Rightly so, on both counts,” Draco replied drolly.

Neville verbally agreed. He and Draco shared an affectionate smile. The gold threads joining them glowed so brightly that their ghostly forms appeared to be made of sunlight rather than mist. Neville couldn’t resist attempting a kiss. Their lips felt solid and warm, as when they were alive. Nothing could contain their joy at that moment.

“Forgiven for choosing the eternal option?” Neville teased.

“Definitely,” Draco replied in a deeply amorous voice. They kissed again.

“So you choose to stay?” the School Spirit asked single-mindedly.

“What’s the catch?” Draco asked while Neville enquired about the prophecy.

“Listen carefully, because the answer is the same:  
One to attack  
One to defend  
One to bully and one to befriend  
Thus described are two, not four  
As one doth rise the other doth fall  
And meet in the middle to balance restore  
One grown mild  
One grown wild  
Together protecting each magical child  
Choosing to love forevermore.  
Stay and eternity is bound by the confines of this Room. Move on and you join those who entered the arch before you. Do you understand?”

“Have the properties of the Room changed in any way now we’re dead?”

Neville was pleased that Draco asked.

“No. It will open within or outside school grounds as required, although it is now up to you to decide which requirements are worthy and you cannot use it to leave. You can never leave Hogwarts.”

“I’ll be able to see my son.” Draco’s whisper was almost a plea.

“Is that the only reason you’d stay?” Neville asked. “This afterlife doesn’t seem to be contention free.”

“You need never dread retirement. You’d gladly spend eternity helping gormless students.”

“And loving you.”

“This school brought us together and made these rooms for us. That debt’s going to take an eternity to repay.”

“So the decision’s made?”

“No brainer really,” Draco said with a shrug and a grin.

“We’ll stay,” they said as one.

“Okay, bye.” The ghostly girl sounded and smiled so much like Luna that Neville felt overwhelmed by sadness. He was never going to see his friends or family again. He began to change his mind.

“That’s it?” Draco demanded. “No ceremony or official pish-tosh?”

“Wait!” Neville shouted as she began to fade. “How’d I apparate if...?”

“The elves will teach you. And you will see the ones you love again. Hogwarts is a school, not a prison.” She smiled brightly and waved until she was completely gone.

“We didn’t ask how she died,” Neville murmured regretfully.

“She might not know.” They sat in thoughtful silence for a while before moving through the various rooms born of the Room of Requirement. “How much time has passed?” Draco asked.

“Dunno. Let’s check in on Scorpius.”

“Hope he’s not in the infirmary. Doubt I could handle seeing our dead bodies.”

“No, me neither.”

“Our predecessor linked Lupin to Regulus, not Sirius.”

 _What?_ With everything they faced Draco focussed on that? “High school romance, perhaps? You said Regulus was eighteen when he died.”

“Lupin lost two potential loves of his life before being killed beside his wife. He was separate from the others when Potter used the Resurrection Stone,” Draco mournfully told his spectral feet then looked up in time to catch Neville’s inquisitive frown. “Not everyone’s as lucky as us.”

Neville thought that an odd observation, particularly for Draco, then noticed their golden sheen hadn’t gone back to the silver grey associated with ghosts. “No, I guess you’re right.”  


*~~~*

  
They’d been dead two days and were still learning the rules of their afterlife. Some of them niggled. Strong positive emotions solidified their immortal forms while negative emotions made them insubstantial so they could touch each other in love but not anger. Unlike their anonymous predecessor Draco and Neville were visible to everyone, which made it impossible to mess about outside the Room without getting caught. Living animals and people could pass through the ethereal threads that bound them. Ghosts could not. Draco found that rather amusing.

“You sure we’re the ones described by this prophecy?” Neville asked as he and Draco stood either side of a classroom in anticipation of Peeves. “We’re supposed to protect students, not prank poltergeists.”

“When someone else comes along who fits that prophecy we’ll hand the job over to them. Until then…”

Peeves shot in through the door and became tangled in the spiritual bindings stretched across the room. Draco gave the command and he and Neville catapulted Peeves toward the Bloody Baron.

“Besides, by keeping Peeves occupied we **are** protecting the students.”

“The service is about to start.”

Draco pouted. “But I want to watch Peeves get pummelled.”

Neville headed for the Great Hall. Being spiritually Bound meant Draco would be dragged along after him once the threads binding them reached their limit. Neville laughed the first time it happened and learned that death hadn’t improved Draco’s temper or minimised the magical damage he could do.

“Why are they having this stupid memorial service? We haven’t gone anywhere,” Draco muttered as he caught up to Neville. “Stand still will you, I’m not going! We’ll be intruding on Mother’s grief. For Merlin’s sake! Why is it you get to drag me everywhere? You’re the one that made us dead.”

Neville stopped to let Draco catch up then teased him in an attempt to ease his anxiety. “Are you worried there’ll be more mourners on my side than yours?”

“Get fisted by a mountain troll.”

Neville laughed at him then grew serious. “You’re in the unique position of being able to say goodbye to your parents and son, answer their questions…”

“Do I want to deny them that? No. Shut up.”

The mourners gathered in the Great Hall beneath a stormy ceiling. Their heightened emotions appeared as coloured auras. Draco and Neville’s new perspective allowed them to see various connections between individuals as threads or blobs of colour which changed with each interaction. Friendships tended to be lilac, sorrow blue, lust an eye-piercing magenta, with abiding love a familiar sheen of gold. Balanced connections held the same density throughout while one-sided affairs tapered at one end. Those who’d made Unbreakable Vows had a gauntleted fist closed around their throat, ready to crush if that vow was broken whereas Unbreakable Marriage Vows clutched the heart.

“That’s damn scary,” Draco said as he looked at the complex chains joining the hearts of his parents. “Did ours look like that while we were alive?”

“Probably,” said Neville. “We were equally determined to hold on despite everything. Perhaps that’s why we have so many connections now. Do you want to sit beside Narcissa? I can go back a row or two, stop Gareth Goyle flicking dried peas through your head. I’ll stuff them up his nose for you,” he offered melodically.

“You’d do that? For me?” Draco asked with wide eyes, a hand over his heart and an evil smirk.

“If this wasn’t a funeral I’d fuck that smirk off your translucent face.”

“Time for that later Longbottom. Mind your language until then, too.”

Scorpius insisted Neville sit in the same row as Draco’s family—but on the other side of Lily who was already sobbing into Scorpius’ shoulder.

“You couldn’t have died heroically **before** Luna gave her that wretched book,” Scorpius muttered to his father.

“His fault,” replied Draco from his seat between Scorpius and Narcissa. “ **I** was murdering someone. Disappointed you don’t remember that, seeing as you were there.”

Narcissa reflexively put her hand on her son’s knee only to have it sink through then grasped her husband’s hands with both of hers to avoid making that mistake again. Her tears were oddly elegant yet by no means stifled. Draco’s inability to hug his mother tugged the thread joining his heart to Neville’s. Neville sent empathy and love back along the same route. He noticed how being caught in this exchange of emotions effected Scorpius and Lily, and wondered whether he could discuss it with Luna and Ginny before they left. He turned to wave hello to his friends who sat across the aisle. Ginny, Hermione, Seamus, Harry and Ron were clearly confused as they raised their hands in acknowledgement. Luna and Hannah waved cheerily back.

Thank Merlin, Mordred and Morgan le Fay there were no bodies or coffins on display. Kingsley Shacklebolt delivered a Ministry appropriate eulogy then the Hogwarts prefects shared selected anecdotes, which were funny and rather saucy by majority. Two of the Beauxbatons prefects and a representative from Durmstrang made short, tearful speeches on behalf of their peers. Then Harry Potter approached the Headmaster’s lectern. His receding hairline no longer concealed his scar.

“I’m sure Draco’s ghost or whatever he’s become now will hex me if I get too pompous or preachy. He’s always ensured his was the biggest ego at Hogwarts, until Neville hit him with the most powerful magic of all—love. Before getting together each asked the other: “Did you kill anyone?” They both replied “I tried not to.” Not the most romantic start to a relationship.” Harry put both hands on the lectern and stared at his knuckles for a moment. “ _I tried not to._ I didn’t have to kill Voldemort because he destroyed himself. The horrors he committed to make himself strong actually made him weak. I had time to plan, to hack away at his defences, and I had help. Mademoiselle Fatale didn’t have the kind of weakness Neville or Draco could exploit. Love for her stolen children and the insanity caused by her obsessive search for them strengthened her. Fatale entered Hogwarts under pretence of peace. Draco and Neville had no opportunity to form a plan. They relied purely on reflex.” He paused to avoid justifying Draco’s use of the darkest Unforgiveable Curse. Neville knew Harry had used the other two during the Horrible Horcrux Hunt. He also knew Harry was not proud of that. “We see them sitting among us but they’re still dead. They can’t go home for Christmas or nick down the pub with their friends. You’re lucky to have these two looking after you, erratic and horny though they may be. Just don’t piss them off. Especially him,” Harry said as he pointed at Draco. Then he sat down.

Neville clapped. Several people muttered about this lack of funereal etiquette.

“This is his funeral, that’s his friend, and they both bloody died so you’d live long enough to sit here and bitch about them!” Draco declared loudly.

Scorpius slunk down into his chair, mumbling “so embarrassing.”

“You can shut up too. If he hadn’t landed in front of you we’d be alive and this would be your funeral, arrogant adolescent twat.”

“Not now Draco,” Lucius scolded through one side of his mouth.

“Forgive me Father for not enjoying being dead!”

Neville chose to follow Draco out of the Great Hall rather than risk being dragged along through their friends in front of the entire school body and select Ministry officials. He didn’t expect an apology and none came. Draco sat on a random step of the grand staircase and held his face in his hands. Neville sat beside him.

“It’s only been three days. I’m sure you’ll get used to it in time to help me through my delayed breakdown.”

Draco dropped his hands and stared hollowly at Neville. “ _Darling Draco, your dramatic outbursts do nothing to assuage my feelings of guilt that we’re both dead and not just me. Please get over yourself._ I’d rather be dead with you than alive without you—is that what you’re waiting to hear?”

“Not going to happen,” Neville said at the same time as Draco.

“No, but I’d rather be alive with you than dead without you, if that’s any consolation.”

Neville rested his chin on Draco’s shoulder. “It’ll do.”

Draco turned to plant an abrupt kiss on Neville’s lips.

Scorpius startled them by saying “Dad?” from the bottom stair. He rarely used the more casual term of paternal address. “May I speak with Father alone?”

Neville looked for a wall to slide through then nodded. He waited in the cavity between the inner and outer layers of stone. It was dark, cold and dank—probably like the grave his body would soon in, beside the shared grave of his parents. Draco’s would join generations of ancestors in the Malfoy mausoleum. They’d joked about how that wouldn’t matter. Neville had to concentrate to lean against the wall because strong negative emotions made him completely insubstantial and he was having a hard time conjuring happy thoughts. They were in this mess because of decisions he’d made and now Draco resented him for it. No wonder they’d banned this form of union centuries ago. Draco’s first impression of him had been right. He was a clumsy, brainless...

“Hey,” a soft voice said behind Neville’s ear. Warm arms closed around his chest. “It’s going to take a lot more than this to stop me loving you.” Draco pressed his lips against Neville’s neck. “We fight, we make up, we fight again…have you already forgotten what happens next?”

Neville put his hands over Draco’s arms. “You shit me.”

“What have I told you about your mouth and profanities, Neville?”

“You irritate me.”

“But then I make it better.”

“So much better,” Neville admitted before they kissed. “You and Scorpius okay?”

“Of course; we fight, we make up.”

Neville chuckled.

“Good, now you’re back in shape we need to say goodbye to those we’ll never see again.”

Neville laughed with Ginny, Harry, Hermione, Ron and Seamus while Draco sat sedately with Narcissa and Lucius. The family seemed cold in comparison to the boisterous group of friends but Neville knew better. He felt Draco’s resolve a moment before the Malfoys stood and shared a final silent and sober farewell. That left Luna, who they intended to see together. She wasn’t in the Great Hall. It didn’t take a unique view of the world to know where she’d be in the first room Neville and Draco restored together.

Luna sat at the ‘kissing table’ and her simple smile summed up every emotion the day contained. A scroll appeared on the table in front of her.

“From us,” Draco admitted because Neville would miss Luna most of all and could only stare and smile back at her. “The School Spirit who spoke to us when we repaired the Great Hall—she’s the missing child of Linden Longbottom and Ursula Black.”

“Everything we could remember of her story is there. The Merfolk and Hogwarts elves can tell you more since they raised her.” The words scratched Neville’s throat. “She said she’ll miss you. We…I…” Neville broke down completely and was frustrated by his inability to cry.

“You’re Neville’s favourite friend Luna, practically a sister. He’d like to say you can use our story too but he can’t speak. Knowing he won’t be joining you and his parents beyond the veil makes him wonder if I’m worth it.” The familiar teasing lilt to Draco’s voice banished Neville’s melancholia.

Luna smiled and picked up the scroll. “The veil covers more than that narrow arch in the Department of Mysteries so of course we’ll all see each other again.” She tapped Draco on the thigh as she leaned in to mock whisper “and he definitely thinks you’re worth it. Stop testing him.” Luna turned to Neville with an even brighter smile. “Luckily Muggles prefer romances with happy endings since there’s not enough tragedy and gore in your story for the magical market. Trying to put my arms around you and having them go through would be rather distressing as well as embarrassing so ‘hug, hug, sisterly kiss on the cheek’ and I’ll be sure to pass by on my way through the veil.” Luna opened the door that suddenly appeared beside her. “That’s convenient,” she said before stepping onto the grassy hill where her twelve year old daughter sat reading. Luna gave a cheerful ‘one hand clapping’ kind of wave as the door closed behind her.

They’d left Luna for last, hoping she’d lift their spirits. She didn’t disappoint.  


*~~~*

  
It was strange being dead but here and aware. They didn’t need sleep but keeping to familiar routines helped them adjust. Neville found the lack of dreams disturbing and eventually asked Draco to stay awake with him.

“What will we do instead?”

Neville thought that would be obvious since Draco still made him stupidly horny. He placed his palm over Draco’s bare navel—they hadn’t yet figured out why they could remove and change their clothes while other ghosts couldn’t—and kissed him. “Would we be able to do this if we’d chosen to move on?” Neville asked. “Is it our Bond or our decision to stay that allows us to make love?”

“All that matters is that we can.” Draco combed his fingers through Neville’s hair before taking firm hold and gasping as Neville’s hand slid down to make them hard together. “Perhaps we can simply because we want to.”

“Romantic logic like that makes me want to spend eternity with you.”

“You’re still soft and warm. I was afraid that would change.”

“It does feel different though, doesn’t it?”

“Very,” Draco agreed then moaned pleasurably as Neville slid inside him. “No need for lube for one thing. And coming feels strange.”

“Is it magical or emotional energy we exchange when that happens?”

“Who knows? I’m not letting Unspeakables in to find out. This is how we recapture the time that was stolen from us. This time is ours. That’s currently all I care about.”

“I love you,” Neville told him throatily. “Now and forever,” he added to the rhythm of his hips.

“Now, ooh, and forever.”

They made love slowly to make the most of their time together. Draco felt warm inside but not hot like Neville remembered, although now Neville felt that warmth all over, not only around his fingers or cock. The snug friction was still localised. They pleasured each other in all manner of positions unhindered by age, inflexible joints, and fatigue that limited their previous choices, although they maintained the particular favourite from their life together.

There were no heartbeats to feel regardless of how rigorously they fucked or tightly they cuddled together after climax, which was disturbing at first. Breathlessness took on a new meaning since they no longer drew breath. They did not sweat. They felt the rub of skin against skin and waves of an energetic force throbbed through them, so powerful that they were left physically weak. Yet they recovered quickly and their magical abilities actually increased, leading Draco to insist nymphomania had been the secret to Merlin’s success.

“Fuck me twice a day for the next twenty years and they’ll be handing out Orders of Longbottom, First Class...”

“Order of Malfoy, Complete Arse,” Neville retorted with a smack to Draco’s bare bum.

“No more nookie. Your position may have been filled but I’ve got a class to teach.” Draco often complained that his teaching career interfered with their afterlife sex regime but Neville knew he’d miss it. “Try to pay attention today my love. There’s only seven months to NEWT and I want you to gain an O this time.”

Paying attention to Professor Malfoy was not Neville’s problem. Focussing on his entertaining lover rather than historical fact ensured Neville would fail History of Magic forevermore.  


*~~~*

  
Scorpius and Lily regularly had afternoon tea in what their generation called the All Seasons room with the ghostly professors. They couldn’t eat or drink of course, but time with Scorpius was what mattered. The scalding magenta line of mutual adolescent lust joining Scorpius to Lily gradually paled to the steady lilac of everlasting friendship so it was no surprise when he began visiting alone or with Albus Potter. Listening in while Draco helped Scorpius with his studies or comfortably talking nonsense with the pair of them reminded Neville that he was part of their family.

Luna’s children would visit with gossip, letters, Quibblers and autographed copies of her books. They were so similar to Luna that it was always spring in the All Seasons room when they dropped by. Hugo Weasley shared Hermione’s passion for elf rights and had a three foot parchment full of questions about Dobby, Kreacher, Topsy and the Hogwarts elves who served the hidden child.

Neville and Draco had other visitors, namely students who saw them as ethereal guidance counsellors, which sometimes irritated Draco. “Merlin’s crotchless underpants! Don’t these sprogs have parents and friends they can harass for this information?” he complained loudly as Neville responded to yet another knock on their private door. Neville smirked as he revealed Scorpius and his Unspeakable godfather sitting in the adjacent All Seasons room.

“Charming father you have there,” Theodore Nott told Scorpius.

“Possible overdose of Weasley,” replied Scorpius. “He should make a full recovery in a day or two.”

There was a shimmering ribbon of gold between them that flared brightly before being brutally suppressed at both ends. Neville glanced at Draco. His blankly genial expression gave nothing away. Their unique connection was strangely silent on the matter. Theodore Nott had been such a quietly aloof student that Seamus referred to him as ‘the forgotten Slytherin’. _“Dean never realised Nott was in our class til Fourth Year. He’s probably the most evil of them all and nobody knows ’cause we forget he exists. It’s like he’s invisible.”_ Draco had come to envy that anonymity during Sixth Year yet they’d only become friends once Draco stopped surrounding himself with sycophants and mostly then thanks to Astoria. They shared a subtlety of humour that was too dry and intellectual for Neville and his friends to appreciate, not that their social sets mingled. Nott never acknowledged Neville’s presence for Draco’s sake. Draco never forced the issue. Neville did not like that.

“Is this a recruitment visit or has your department finally learned something about our predicament?” Draco asked as he sat in a chair directly opposite Theodore and at a diagonal from Scorpius.

“Both,” said Scorpius and dared a hopeful glance in his godfather’s direction before adopting a suitably bland expression.

Neville wondered whether Scorpius’ keen interest in becoming an Unspeakable began before or after his unspoken affection for Theodore. Their blatant denial of mutual appreciation not only coloured their auras, it flavoured the air. Scorpius was less than half the other man’s age which was probably the least of their obstacles. To which predicament did Draco refer?

“The Department of Mysteries does seem the natural place for you,” Draco told his son. “How many investigations feature him somehow?” he asked Theodore.

“I can’t say.” Neither Draco nor Theodore smiled but subtle shifts in posture showed they both found that humorous. “However, I can tell you that you aren’t poltergeists or any form of ghost. This form of post mortal manifestation is described as Guardianship.” A cup of steaming white English breakfast tea appeared in front of Nott with black Darjeeling for Scorpius. The porcelain, patterned to match the room, had been an anniversary gift from Hermione, Ron and the Hogwarts elves. Neither Scorpius nor Draco pointed that out to Theodore as he sipped his tea. “There are only a few confirmed examples. The immortal knight who protects the Holy Grail is in fact a wizard who cannot be defeated simply because he is already dead. Mesopotamian Muggles distorted the facts of Eden’s Garden until Seraph Im and his wife Cherub became angels of light carrying flaming swords sent from heaven to keep the first humans from God’s presence, rather than a magical couple Bound for eternity who swore to protect the private garden of their daughter Eden from the Muggles that had tortured the girl to insanity.”

“Would you still consider it an atrocity if Death Eaters rather than Muggles had done that?” Neville couldn’t help asking.

Draco took hold of Neville’s knee. Scorpius looked expectantly at his godfather. The gold ribbon twisted at his end, waiting to snap.

“Children are our community’s most precious resource. Failure is guaranteed to any witch or wizard who seeks to achieve dominance by threatening children. Didn’t you pay attention in History of Magic, Longbottom? You must be a Filibuster’s in bed because it certainly can’t be your intellect Draco finds so appealing.”

“Nor your generosity of spirit that our son finds so attractive,” Draco countered quietly and to everyone’s surprise.

“Father…” Scorpius calmly protested but Nott spoke over the top of him.

“You believe I lack your propensity for mind-corroding emotion simply because I remain sensible enough to control it? He’s half my age for Merlin’s sake! I’m not willing to ruin his life like you did, Draco. He’s more important than…” Nott deliberately left it at that. He’d given his heart away with no way of retrieving it.

“They didn’t ruin my life Theo. I ruined theirs.”

“No you didn’t,” Neville and Draco said with equally genuine vehemence. “And he won’t ruin yours,” Draco told Nott.

“Although he’ll certainly keep it interesting,” Neville added.

Scorpius swiftly changed topic. “Guardianship is the closest to true immortality a soul can achieve.”

“Then why didn’t genius Lord Voldemort pursue that option instead of creating Horcruxes?” Neville asked.

“Guardianship requires protecting an entity other than oneself,” replied Nott.

“It’s a promise made entirely of love,” Scorpius added.

“Something Voldemort didn’t feel for anything other than himself, except maybe Nagini.” Draco grimaced.

“That’s disgusting Father!”

“The Dark Lord was disgusting,” Theodore solemnly told Scorpius. “His Dark Mark should be deemed an Unforgiveable Curse.”

Neville agreed while fondly taking Draco’s hand. “How did we become Guardians?” they asked together. Scorpius rolled his eyes at them.

“This prophecy as told to you by the missing child of Ursula Black and Linden Longbottom? The final lines actually form a contract:  
Together protecting each magical child  
Choosing to love forevermore  
You were bound in this room which, because of its nature, also bound you to Hogwarts. You died to protect children from the three European schools of witchcraft and wizardry and killed to stop Fatale pulling a similar stunt on every other continent—which is part of both prophecy and contract. The hidden child asked if you were willing to stay to be sure neither of you harboured regrets.”

“Luna believes the School Spirit would have helped you move on as she did with Helena Ravenclaw—and that Hogwarts will crumble, incapable of being rebuilt if you choose to leave.”

Finding Luna’s opinion worth repeating lowered him in Nott’s esteem until Neville mentioned the crack that formed when he and Draco broke up. “It began to heal when we reunited, even though that reunion was supposed to be temporary.”

Draco nodded. “The Department of Mysteries investigated... Were you an Unspeakable then Theodore?”

“No but that phenomenon is part of this same case, along with Scorpius’ influence over the Longbottoms.”

“Nott must work in the sealed room, the one I told you about,” Neville told Draco. “The one Dumbledore said contained the most powerful force… What numpty assigned you to the love room?” he asked Nott.

“No one works _in_ that room since it can never be opened. We work _for_ it. Merlin knows what criteria it uses but the force inside that room chooses us. Draco, it’s chosen Scorpius.”

Draco put both hands on the table then clasped them together as he advised his son. “As your father it’s my responsibility to guide your decisions. As always it’s up to you to make and abide by them. Your mother would agree that there’s no point offering my opinion in this case since you already know what you want, so let’s hear it.”

“I’d like to work for the Department of Mysteries. Love it in fact,” Scorpius smiled at his own pun.

“And what have you chosen Theodore?” Draco asked without dropping his tone of paternal authority.

Nott edged his hand along the table top and gingerly stroked the back of Scorpius’ knuckles with one fingertip. Scorpius subtly placed his hand over the top and applied gentle pressure. The gold ribbon between them stopped rippling and solidified.

Draco smiled. He winked at Neville once their guests left. “Knew that thing with the Potter girl was just a phase,” he quipped with a grin.

“Why did you hide your reaction to Nott and Scorpius from me? How?” asked Neville.

“No secrets, I simply didn’t know what to make of it. Introvert and extrovert seemed an unlikely fit.” Draco copied the way Theodore touched Scorpius. “A simple gesture, deceptively small, reveals the carefully hidden heart.” His eyes met Neville’s. “I couldn’t hide mine from you if I tried.”  


* _EPILOGUE_ *

  
Scorpius, Albus and Rose left Hogwarts followed by Lily and Hugo then Luna’s children and Seamus’ son until all their friends’ progeny had grown up. Neville and Draco had more privacy as a result but now they had to rely on owls and house elves for news of their family and friends. Those they cared most about began to pass through on their way to wherever death took normal people. For a while their existence seemed to be an interminable funeral yet there was still joy to be had. Marriage bonds were formed and babies made. Each new generation brought knowledge, political change and clothing styles to keep Draco entertained.

The world aged around and without them. ‘Pure blood’ became a thing of the past, their past. They learned how to switch their aura vision off and on, when to act and merely observe, how to disapparate like house elves, why only those who had seen death first hand could see thestrals. There were always questions needing answers, students or professors in danger of becoming lost, laughter to share and love to be made.

They fought then made up, then fought and made up again. The pattern continued through the ages and they were incredibly happy together.

One afternoon, at about 2:15pm, the door to the sealed room in the Department of Mysteries opened. The Unspeakable on duty looked inside. The interior was familiar to her, as it would be to all who studied at Hogwarts after Lord Voldemort’s downfall. It had been known by many names but those of her generation knew it as the Safe Room. Each wall featured the same scene but during a different season. The Unspeakable gasped with shock to see two young wizards by the winter wall. The wizard seated on the floor had hair as white as the snowy scene behind him. The other had hair as brown as autumn earth. He knelt in front of his companion as they kissed. There was nothing lewd in their posture or movement. Sorrow, forgiveness, compassion, determination, and acceptance filled the air.

This was Love, in its purest form.


End file.
